They Shook Hands : Year 4
by Dethryl
Summary: Harry Potter's new life with his godfather, Sirius Black, is the stuff his best dreams were made of. As they turn 12 Grimmauld Place into a real home, Harry finally gets to hear all about his father and mother. At the Quidditch World Cup, Harry learns of
1. Summer With Sirius

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

Harry Potter's new life with his godfather, Sirius Black, is the stuff his best dreams were made of. As they turn 12 Grimmauld Place into a real home, Harry finally gets to hear all about his father and mother. At the Quidditch World Cup, Harry learns of the upcoming Triwizard Tournament from Mr. Lucius Malfoy. Back at Hogwarts, there's treachery afoot, as Harry is named as a fourth Champion. Can his reputation recover from what the other Houses are saying? Who will stand with him? Who will stand against him? Tasks of immense danger loom, and dark shadows are gathering again. How can Harry survive with life and limb in peril? Will Harry ever be the same again?

Don't read unless you've first read Year One, Year Two, and Year Three.

**STOP AND READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE!**

This story was begun in 2001, post-GOF. As such, it contains several anachronisms. Blaise Zabini is written as a blonde girl. Nott's first name is Tim. There is a new character named Jenna Moon. Please don't lose your shirt because it's not 100% canonesque. Now that the canon is complete, I have revised the story to take into account later details, including some things from Pottermore (don't worry, nothing spoilery!). Names were changed to protect the innocent: Tim to Theo, Jenna Moon to Daphne Greengrass, and Blaise Zabini to Tracy Davis. The black kid who doesn't get any screentime in canon until HBP is worked in by a particular fit of genius. It's as close as I can make it to canon without rewriting the entire series, and I'm not going to go that far. I am leaving this original version of the story posted for posterity.

**If you are new to this story, please read the Revision! You can find the link in my profile.**

**Chapter One - Summer With Sirius**

"Welcome home, Harry."

Just hearing those words had a profound effect on Harry Potter. It was like he had unwrapped a Christmas present and inside had been a Cheering Charm. Joy was bursting out of him. His grin was uncontrollable. Home. Harry had come home.

"Thank you, Sirius. It's good to have a home."

Sirius Black, Harry's godfather and guardian, raised his arms dramatically. "Welcome to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. May it fall in on itself from dryrot," he declared. "I've been back only a few weeks, and I already want to move."

It certainly was a right mess. They were in a long, high-ceilinged room with olive green walls covered by dirty tapestries. The carpet exhaled little clouds of dust when Harry stepped on it, and the long, moss green velvet curtains were buzzing as though swarming with invisible bees; they were probably infested with Doxys.

"It's not Privet Drive; that's all I care about," Harry said encouragingly. Privet Drive, where Harry had lived before now, was an awful place where Harry was both despised and feared. It was home to his mother's Muggle sister and her non-magical family. Harry had lived there after his parents were murdered. "We'll fix whatever's wrong with it."

"Everything is wrong with it."

"Then we'll fix everything. We'll start with something small. We'll get it done. Then the rest won't seem so bad."

"It's going to be a long haul to get this place fit for human habitation again. It's been empty for nine years now, ever since my dear mother died. That is, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist. Old Kreacher hasn't cleaned anything in ages. I did manage to get the big stuff out of one of the guest rooms for you, though," Sirius offered.

"Sounds good. Let's go."

"Okay, but until we get there, we have to be absolutely quiet if we can help it at all."

"Why?"

"I'll explain upstairs."

Sirius levitated Harry's trunk and opened the door.

Beyond the drawing room was almost total darkness. Harry could smell damp, dust and a sweetish, rotting smell; the place had the feeling of a derelict building. There was a soft hissing noise, and then old-fashioned gas lamps sputtered into life all along the walls, casting a flickering, insubstantial light over the peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpet of a long, gloomy hallway. The bannister on the right side gave one what must have once been a fantastic view. A cobwebby chandelier glimmered overhead.

Sirius led the way towards the far end of the landing where a grand staircase wound down to the ground floor and up to the second floor. The dark staircase was decorated with a row of shrunken heads mounted on plaques on the wall. A closer look showed Harry that the heads belonged to house-elves. All of them had the same rather snout-like nose.

Good grief, what sort of family did his godfather come from?

Dark, he realized. Sirius had turned on his family and become a pariah. Well, he was still around, so who had been right? If the family had been evil, maybe Sirius could now redeem their name.

The steps and the heads went on for ages. When Sirius moved towards the stairs leading up to the fourth floor, Harry wondered if he'd been cursed to forever climb steps and never get anywhere like some Muggle exercise machine. Then Sirius turned right and opened the door with the stacks of boxes next to it.

A single canopy bed dominated the centre of the room but didn't make one feel cramped. The ceiling was easily thrice Harry's height. The thick layer of dust had been recently disturbed, Harry could see, and the curtains on the windows looked to have been beaten out.

If Aunt Petunia had been asked to even set foot in this dirty place, she would have gossipped about it for weeks. Harry, on the other hand, dragged his trunk right in and dropped it with a thump on the hardwood floor.

"My room," he said, trying out the sound of the phrase. It felt good. Forget the dirt and dust and grime and Merlin only knew what else. Harry didn't care that he would have to clean it up a bit - okay, a lot. He was standing in _his_ bedroom in _his_ home with _his_ godfather.

"Absolutely. I know I cleaned this one out for you and we're working on it first, but once we get the rest of the house attended to, you can have your pick of bedroom," Sirius said anxiously. "I mean, if you don't like this room, that is."

"Are you kidding?" Harry had slept for eleven years in a cupboard under the stairs and had been given his cousin Dudley's second bedroom only because his Muggle relatives feared magic so much. The idea of picking which room he wanted for his own was incomprehensible to him.

"With one exception, naturally. I've already moved back into my old room up on the fourth. I really had to think to remember the keys to my Locking Hexes."

"Hexes?" Harry knew about Locking _Charms_, but not Hexes.

"Charms with a bite."

"Do they teach those at Hogwarts?"

"Only in N.E.W.T.-level Charms. Part of learning to pick magical locks is learning how to create them in the first place."

"I imagine the hex gives them lots of incentive to succeed," Harry observed slyly.

"Oh yes. The basic concept is easy enough. You create a magical containment field and cast the hex into it. Then you place the hex inside the Locking Charm and harmonize the two fields. Withdraw the containment field, and via the symmetry property, the Locking Charm now fully incorporates the hex and will release it upon the charm being broken."

"And I understood all that. What class do they teach you how to talk like that?"

"Transfiguration."

Harry snickered, and Sirius joined in a second later. "McGonagall," Harry laughed ruefully.

"Yah, she wears brass underwear, but she knows her stuff. She's an Animagus, and that's the best there is with Transfiguration."

"You're an Animagus, too. So was my dad. Why aren't your Transfiguration marks in the school records?"

Sirius laughed sharply. "Well, we couldn't let on, could we? I left the test twenty minutes early to go have a snog, but James did phenominal on the O.W.L., which amazed McGonagall, and she let us both into the advanced class."

"You left a test to go kiss a girl?" Harry wondered if he believed that. "Who?"

"The prettiest girl in school."

"Wasn't that my mum?"

"Close, but not quite. Greta Olafsdottir, a wonderful girl with a wretched last name. Fat blonde pigtails, perfect white skin, and the most pouty lips ever seen. She wanted to find a husband in the worst way. Nobody ever wondered why she was Sorted to Slytherin."

"You went snogging with a Slytherin girl?"

"A bit, yes. I wasn't the marrying kind, so she moved on quickly, but it was an educational few weeks. James swore he'd see it carved in my tombstone, 'I snogged a Slytherin.'"

Harry shook his head in rueful amusement. He loved hearing stories about his dad. James Potter and Sirius Black had been best friends in their school years. But as nice as old stories were, his curiousity was still piqued.

"So you were going to explain about being quiet earlier?"

"Ah, yes. Well, you see, you don't want to wake up my mother's portrait. She and I don't get along, so she tends to start frothing at the mouth when she sees me. I've covered her up with curtains, but if she hears us, she'll start shrieking like the harpy she was." Sirius' grim tone left no doubt as to his feelings towards her in return.

"So what do you say we get started? We'll figure out how to get her down later."

"_Scourgify!_" Harry's wand let off a jet of pale blue light that sank into the layers of dust, stirring it up a bit. "It didn't work!"

"Give it a few more tries," Sirius encouraged him.

Harry did, and after a couple of spells he could see the floor. It wasn't polished, but at least the wood was visible. Amazingly enough, the hardwood appeared to be all one piece!

"Well done, Harry!" Sirius cheered.

"It feels weird to be using magic and not be at Hogwarts." Normally students were restricted from using magic outside of school before they turned seventeen. Officially the Ministry policy applied to all students. Unofficially, only households with Muggles present were spelled with the Monitoring Charms.

"No more worries of that! Here, let's open the window and get a bit of light in here."

The grime on the window vanished with another Scouring Charm from Sirius, and daylight flooded into the room, partly blinding Harry, whose eyes had adjusted to the dimness.

Together, the pair made quick work of the dust and filth. Harry relished the feeling of magic passing from his hand and through his wand, and he loved hearing Sirius tell stories about his dad. He felt like the luckiest boy on Earth. When the room was presentable, Harry opened his trunk and began emptying the contents onto the newly visible floor.

Sirius watched him for a few moments. "Harry, I don't think you have enough stuff in your trunk. We should go shopping at once; then you won't be able to close it at all.

Harry laughed. "Well it is a small trunk, isn't it? Anyway, this is everything I own. I never had anything until a few years ago."

Sirius' smile vanished into a scowl. "My fault," he whispered.

"No!" Harry said forcefully. "Their fault! Stupid, narrow-minded Muggles!"

Sirius didn't look convinced.

"It's just stuff. It's not important."

"You're right, Harry." Sirius tapped his chest. "It's what's in here that counts, not the things you surround yourself with."

Harry opened the closet and snapped off three quick cleaning spells. He carried an armful of his clothes over and began hanging them neatly on the rod. Sirius handed him empty hangars as needed and brought over another stack of clothes.

"Pretty groovy threads you've got," Sirius said, breaking the silence.

"I actually chose very little of this," Harry confessed. "Millie's mum is a fashion designer, and between her and Blaise's mum, my first Christmas at Hogwarts felt like I'd been given a haberdashery."

"How much of it have you grown out of?" Sirius asked slyly.

"All of it."

"It's a good thing we have magic, then. When we have some time, I'll show you how to resize your clothes without ruining them. Which reminds me of the time your dad offered to help Moony ask out Tabitha Norton. Well, Moony didn't have much style, so Prongs loaned him a nice outfit and robe and fed him all kinds of horrendous lines to use. Well, Prongs was either careless with his spell or feeling mischevous, because right when Moony opened his mouth, the entropic forces of the Transfiguration absolutely disintegrated the fabric, leaving the poor bastard standing there in his altogether."

Harry laughed loudly. The image of his former Defence professor naked was not one he needed, but if it let him laugh with his godfather, he'd accept it.

"Tally prank," he noted.

"Pretty elementary," Sirius replied. "If I were to tell you about all the pranks we pulled, we won't get any cleaning done until it's time for you to go back to school."

"Well, I can't leave the whole mess for you, so let's get to it. We can talk and work at the same time. I'm hungry. Let's go clean the kitchen."

"Brilliant idea," Sirius agreed. "I'll give you the tour later. Remember to be quiet on the stairs."

"Right."

They stepped as quietly as they could down the horrible stairway with its grisly decorations and skirted around a large umbrella stand that looked as though it had been made from a severed troll's leg. They crossed in front of a pair of long, moth-eaten curtains on the wall of the stair, and Harry knew that was Mother Black. They turned right, went through a door on the right and down a set of narrow stone steps, through another door leading into the basement kitchen.

There was no light, and Sirius lit his wand, casting a beam of brightness into the room. It was scarcely less gloomy than the hall above, a cavernous room with rough stone walls. They saw the menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the dark ceiling, dust-covered counters, and sinks filled with horrible surprises.

Harry followed Sirius into the kitchen with his own wand in his hand. He spied the fireplace at the far end of the room, and, with a swish and flick, he shot a small ball of fire into it. Eventually a dim orange light began to illuminate the darkness.

"Charming," he said.

"Disgusting, more like. _Scourgify!_"

"So what happened to Moony? With that girl, I mean."

"It was pretty awful, actually. My esteemed colleague in crime and capers has what is sometimes delicately referred to as a 'furry problem'. It's quite a correct choice of phrase, because he's almost a rug, even when it's a new moon. He covered himself up fairly well and bolted for the nearest door."

Harry snickered. "Where did this happen? In the Great Hall, right?"

"No," Sirius said regretfully. "That would have been kingly. As it was, Moony asked right before Charms class. He bolted for the door. Pinchface Professor Pinnichot chose that _precise_ moment to arrive, stopped dead in her tracks, and in the faintest voice you can imagine said, "'Mister Lupin, please explain this.' Moony, wit that he is - how he ever managed this I'll never know - he looks dead at her and says, 'Professor, I regret to report only partial success with my Disillusionment Charm.'"

Harry threw back his head and howled with laughter. Sirius roared with him, and together they pounded on the floor, sending the dust billowing around.

"Pinchface," Sirius gasped, "Pinchface, she- she just puts her briefcase down, walks up to Dumbledore's office, and hands in her notice."

"She quit?" Harry was astouded.

"I guess we just finally broke her spirit. Flitwick started the next week. We never saw Pinchface again."

"Incredible," Harry marvelled.

"Poor Tabby, though, she never recovered. She practically stalked old Moony the rest of the year. Him, he never got over it enough to not hide when he saw her. Prongs apologized to Moony as soon as he stopped laughing, which took about a day and a half. I'm afraid I took considerably longer."

"A week?"

"That's about right."

"Goyle put ink in Tim's tea one time. His teeth got stained black for two days because of it." It wasn't a prank on the level of your mate getting starkers for a whole class, but you had to appreciate the small jokes as well.

Sirius chuckled. "We did a lot with ink. I imagine he was quite upset, no?"

"Oh yes. And Pansy still brings it up when she hasn't got anything else bad to say about him. He starts cursing every time. They're always having a go at each other."

"Only with words?"

"Pretty awful talk, but yeah, words."

"Interesting," Sirius said ponderingly. "Tim seems a decent fellow."

"He's the smartest person I know," said Harry. "He thinks about things differently. His dad's a researcher, so maybe that has something to do with it."

"The scientific process does tend to sharpen one's ability to reason."

"But it's magic," protested Harry.

"The scientific process applies just as much to magic as it does to science," Sirius said firmly. "We learned that while undertaking our illegal studies."

"Yes," Harry said. "About that."

"What about it?" Sirius replied in a light-hearted tone.

"Will you teach me?" Harry had hinted at it before, but now he asked outright. "I want to be like you and my dad."

"Of course I will teach you, Harry. I'll have you transforming in no time at all. The son of Prongs can't help but learn it handily."

Harry felt a rush of anticipation. He was going to be an Animagus! He wasn't even fourteen yet! "Thank you! Wow! Tally!"

"After we get the house into a livable condition, we'll put the time aside for it. Until then, all our efforts are required here. _Scourgify!_"

They did not finish work on the kitchen that night. The place was simply too big and dirty for only two wizards to tackle on their own. Well past dinner time, Sirius called it quits, and they stretched out on the clean counters to figure out what to eat.

"The kitchen is not usable," Sirius declared. "And I'm only moderately capable in that regard anyway. We must buy our food tonight."

"Where do you want to go?" Harry asked. "Leaky Cauldron? Three Broomsticks?"

"I was thinking more like pizza delivery," Sirius clarified. "I haven't had a pizza in twelve years."

"Me either," Harry said. "The Muggles."

"You're joking. You're not joking. Oh, it's disgusting! That's it! We're going out for pizza. I've just realized there's no telephone here."

"Why don't we firecall Wizard Pizza?" Harry asked.

"There's no such thing."

"Well why not?"

"Pizza is not very popular in the wizarding world. Too Muggle-ish for the elite set. Too messy, too. Snotty bastards don't want to stain their satin dresses."

"I suppose anyone who was Muggleborn or halfblood could just order Muggle pizza," Harry said regretfully. Wizard pizza sounded wonderfully mysterious.

So they took a stroll around the neighborhood. They were only a mile or so from King's Cross station, Harry realized from the street signs. The pizza they ended up getting at a little hole in the wall sort of restaurant was perhaps the best thing Harry had ever eaten. The crust was incredibly thick, covered in pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, peppers, and five different cheeses. Sirius practically had his eyes rolled back in his head and would periodically moan in bliss as he chewed. Harry didn't know if it was quite _that_ good, but he had no problems devouring his half of the pie. In fact, they ordered a second and made a sizeable dent in it; the leftovers they packed home for breakfast in the morning. As good as the food was, though, Harry was more impressed that Sirius had no problems at all handling Muggle money.

Their walk back to Grimmauld Place was leisurely, and Sirius seemed to just like the feeling of the light summer breeze in his face. Harry took in the sights of the very nicely kept gardens in front of the houses. Elaborate shrub pruning had been done on this block.

Harry wanted to spend more time with Sirius and hear more stories about his dad. He said as much to Sirius, but his godfather demurred.

"After today's work, I'm completely knackered," he begged off. "I think I'd get to the punchlines and start snoring. What do you say we pick up first thing in the morning?"

"Well, okay," Harry said, feeling slightly disappointed. His first day in his new home had been so wonderful he didn't want it to end.

"If we can get that kitchen accomplished by noon, I think we'll be ahead of schedule." Harry considered that to be a grossly optimistic timeframe. "Then we can take a tour of this dump and decide which room we're going to treat to the Black-Potter Backbeat next. Moony said he might drop by tomorrow, so we can put him to work too."

"It's going to be weird seeing him when he's not my teacher," Harry admitted. "It's going to take me ages to stop calling him 'Professor'. Which brings up a point: what _do_ I call him?" Harry wasn't sure he could suddenly flip from classroom formality to the familiarity of "Remus".

"Well, you should ask him yourself. I expect he'll tell you whatever you're comfortable with. If you want to call him Moony, he's certainly heard it before. If you need to call him sir, I'll try not to laugh at him too much. For a more moderate position, I suggest you try Remus rather than Mister Lupin. It is his name, after all, and he's your father's friend, not your friend's father."

That made a certain amount of sense. "He won't think I'm silly for asking, will he?"

"Not at all, Harry." Sirius shook his head gently. "It's quite natural to wonder about a changing situation. When you don't know what's going on, you can do one of two things: observe and hope to eventually figure it out or ask someone else. Asking generally saves time and prevents catastrophic damage."

Harry felt a rush of relief. "Thanks, Sirius. I'll ask him tomorrow, first thing."

"Good. Get it out in the open and deal with it." Sirius nodded firmly.

"Yes."

A pungent smell of rotting rubbish came from the pile of bulging bin-bags just inside the broken gate of number eleven. Harry fought the urge to hold his nose as they climbed the worn stone steps to number twelve. Harry noticed now the shabby and scratched black paint.

Sirius drew his wand and tapped the door in a complicated rhythm. The clunking sound of locks disengaging was followed by the thump of a chain falling against the heavy wood. The twisted serpent that was the doorknocker bowed its head, and the door swung open with an ominous creak.

Harry and Sirius were silent as they crept on tip-toe past the moth-eaten curtains that shielded Mother Black from seeing those she hated. Around the troll's leg umbrella stand, up the stairway lined with house elf heads, and onto the third floor landing they hurried as quietly as they could.

"There," Sirius said sourly. "First thing I should've done is figured out how to get that harridan off the wall. You don't perchance happen to know how to break a Permanent Sticking Charm?"

"Ah, no."

"Maybe Moony knows. He studied more than me."

"I bet you could teach Transfiguration."

Sirius laughed. "Yes, I'm sure you would. Soon, Harry, I promise."

His cunning Slytherin trick had failed. "Well, I guess we'd best get an early start. Is five o'clock too early for you?"

"Five o-" Sirius sputtered, staring down at Harry with wide eyes.

"Yeah. I do it all the time. Quidditch, you know. Youngest Seeker in a century. Flint was a daemon with his practice schedules. Early morning put us under stress. By learning to play while tired, he toughened us up until we could do it easily. Four-thirty?" Harry didn't know how much longer he could keep a straight face. He was on summer holiday, and if he got up before ten it would be an accident.

Sirius studied him for several long moments, no doubt wondering if Harry was putting him on. "How about seven?"

"Sounds good."

"My room is the first door at the top of the stairs if you need anything. I'll leave it open just in case."

"I'll be fine."

Sirius smiled. "Good night, then, Harry."

"Good night, Sirius."

Harry turned the serpent's head doorknob and went into his room. He pulled out his pyjamas and changed for bed. Throwing back the sheets, he lay down and stared at the canopy. His mind was racing with thoughts of today and tomorrow and then next day. He didn't want to sleep. The gas lights seemed to know he was supposed to sleep, though, because they slowly dimmed to darkness. Harry lay in the dark, covers pulled up to his chin.

Sirius was a very jovial fellow, and lots of his stories had funny punchlines. He was smart and clever, and he was going to teach Harry some special magic. He also had some pretty wise words. All in all, this whole godfather thing was better than Harry had ever dreamed about.

When Remus Lupin arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry and Sirius were hard at work in the kitchen again. He strolled casually into the room and sat himself down at the table where Sirius had just poured goblets of ice water.

"Thank you, Padfoot. Don't mind if I do."

"Good morning, Moony. Nice of you to drop by."

"Is the work done yet?"

"Does it look done yet?"

"I recall your part of the dorm was always a sty. I figured maybe you'd cleaned to your normal standards."

Sirius winced. "Remember that time I brought Connie O'Ryan back to the dorm and all the stuff I'd shoved into my wardrobe burst out right when things were getting interesting?"

"She reacted rather violently, as I remember," Lupin said amusedly. "Grabbed her wand and starting hexing everything in sight. Including you."

"Including me," Sirius echoed mournfully. "Never date an Auror's daughter. She burnt off half my hair!"

"The smell lingered for days," Lupin confided to Harry. "He was too proud to go to the hospital wing, so he just skivved class until it wore off."

"Don't ever do that, Harry," Sirius cautioned. "The itching will drive you crazy."

Harry sipped at his water, thankful for the break. He and Sirius had been hard at work since early morning. Between cold sips, he admired the goblet. It was heavy and silver, still gleaming despite the fact that nobody had polished it. The Black family crest had been embossed on the side.

"Padfoot, may I impose on you to give me a goblet that won't poison me?"

"What, don't you _like_ fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver?" Sirius asked in a fake-impatient tone.

"Not particularly, no. The crystal, if you please?"

Sirius waved his wand and Summoned a wine goblet from the glass cabinet. "Watch yourself, Moony, that's cut diamond there."

Lupin nearly knocked the goblet over. "This goblet is diamond?" he choked.

"If you need an ostentatious display of wealth, diamonds are a winner every time." Sirius said deploringly.

"Isn't cut diamond sort of, well, dangerous?" Harry asked.

"Certainly. But that's part of the fun, don't you know?" Sirius' expression said he didn't consider the prospect at all fun.

"I heal fast," Lupin declared, and he delicately grasped the goblet by the stem. "So really, how does the work go? The kitchen is looking fairly well off."

"Harry's room is done. This place will be wrapped up in another hour or so. You're just in time for the grand tour I was planning."

"I can't wait."

Sirius stood up with a tall stretch. "You're going to have to. There's been too much sitting around and not enough cleaning," he declared. "We've had a long enough break, Harry. Moony, draw your wand."

Though Harry groaned with the effort, with an extra wizard lending a wand the remainder of the kitchen was cleaned to Sirius' satisfaction in a few short hours. They washed up at the now clean sinks and silently went up the stairs into the manor proper.

The ground floor was mostly taken up by the entry hall, and a shaft of empty space went up to the top floor. On one side were two doors leading to the ballroom and the library. Opposite, three doors led to the dining room, sitting room, and what Sirius not-so-jokingly called the arsenal room. It contained several suits of armour, and the walls were decorated with various swords and other weapons. Comfortable-looking chairs were covered in layers of dust.

"A room for men," Sirius clarified. "Mother refused to set foot in here."

On the first floor landing, there were three doors on the right wall and one door at the end of the hall. This was the drawing room, where they'd come through the Floo. The near door was a very nice bathroom, serving the two bedrooms.

The second floor was home to a number of rooms, including a nursery, a rather large bedroom intended for a live-in nanny, and two other rooms of the right. On the left, more grown up rooms were present, including a collection of art, an array of classic torture devices, and a spacious dueling room.

"I say we get this place clean next," Harry opined. "It must have been smashing once upon a time."

The dominant feature of the third floor was unquestionably the master suite, which occupied the entire front wall. There were no rooms on the front wall on the lower floors, so the whole thing seemed to float in mid-air. Two expansive bedrooms were on either side of the open space. Harry was currently lodged in the one nearest the stairs to the fourth floor. Two baths were found on this level: one next to Harry's room, and one at the top of the stairs.

The fourth and final floor was very small, barely more than a balcony. Two doors, clearly marked 'Sirius' and 'Regulus' identified them. A steep stair tucked into the wall between the two rooms led to an attic.

"There you are, gentlemen," Sirius said grandly. "What do you think?"

"It's brilliant," Harry said honestly. He could see past the dust and dirt and grime. He ignored the cobwebs and the creepy-crawlies. So there were places where Dark magic had run wild. It was still home.

"Did you ever think, Padfoot, that you'd be showing a Potter and a werewolf around this old place?"

"Not in my wildest dreams." Sirius paused for a moment of reflection. "So, shall we make an attempt on my mother's portrait? Or would you rather clean something else?"

Harry considered. "Well, we want to make a good impression on any visitors, so why don't we take a pass at the drawing room?"

"It's as good a reason as any," Sirius said agreeably. "To the first floor! _Gravitas penna!_" And with that, he leapt over the railing!

Harry's heart lurched in his chest, but then he translated the Latin and realized that Sirius had cast a spell to slow his descent. His godfather floated down to the first floor and opened the drawing room door.

Lupin cast the Featherfall Charm on Harry and himself. They floated down together in the dusty air. Harry landed lightly next to Sirius, who had watched his descent anxiously.

"I bet that saves time," Harry said with a grin.

"Dead useful spell, you know."

"I bet."

Sirius walked across the room to where an immensely old tapestry hung the length of the wall and stared up at it with disgust plain on his face. It was faded and looked as though Doxys had gnawed it in places. Nevertheless, the golden thread with which it was embroidered still glinted brightly enough to show them a sprawling family tree dating back (as far as Harry could tell) to the Middle Ages. Large words at the very top of the tapestry read:

**_The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_**

_Toujours pur_

"I haven't looked at this for years," Sirius said, not sounding very wistful. "There's Phineas Nigellus, my great-great-grandfather, see? He was the least popular Headmaster Hogwarts ever had. Araminta Mehflua, a cousin of my mother's. She tried to force through a Ministry Bill to make Muggle-hunting legal. Ah, dear Aunt Elladora! She started the family tradition of beheading house-elves when they got too old to carry tea trays. Of course, any time the family produced someone halfway decent they were disowned."

Harry had seen the Black family tree once before at Malfoy Manor. It was how he had discovered that he was distantly cousins with Sirius (via a Charlus Potter who had married into the Black clan) and also with his best mate Draco Malfoy. Draco's mother, Narcissa Black Malfoy, was Sirius' first cousin.

"The pure-blood families are all interrelated," said Sirius. "If you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry pure-bloods your choice is very limited; there are hardly any of us left."

There were a few notable differences. Harry saw a small, round, charred hole in the tapestry, rather like a cigarette burn, obscuring a name between Narcissa and Bellatrix. Harry couldn't remember the name.

"You're not on here!" said Harry, after scanning the bottom of the tree closely.

"As I said, the good ones were disowned. I used to be there," said Sirius, pointing at another black mark. "My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home. Kreacher's quite fond of muttering the story under his breath."

"You ran away from home?"

"When I was about sixteen," said Sirius. "I'd had enough."

"Where did you go?" asked Harry, staring at him.

"Your dad's place," said Sirius. "Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son. Yeah, I camped out at your dad's in the school holidays, and when I was seventeen I got a place of my own. My Uncle Alphard had left me a decent bit of gold. He's been wiped off here, too; that's probably why. Anyway, after that I looked after myself. I was always welcome at Mister and Missus Potter's for Sunday lunch, though."

"But why did you leave?"

Sirius smiled bitterly and ran his fingers through his long hair. "Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal; my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them." Sirius jabbed a finger at the very bottom of the tree, at the name Regulus Black. A date of death (some fifteen years previously) followed the date of birth.

"He was younger than me," said Sirius, "and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded."

"But he died," said Harry.

"Yeah," said Sirius. "Stupid idiot that he was, he joined the Death Eaters."

"You're kidding!"

"Come on, Harry, haven't you seen enough of this house to tell what kind of wizards my family were?" Sirius asked testily.

"I know that, but still. Were- were your parents Death Eaters as well?"

"No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea. They were all for the purification of the wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having pure-bloods in charge. They weren't alone, either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colours, who thought he had the right idea about things. They got cold feet when they saw what he was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents thought Regulus was a right little hero for joining up at first."

"Was he killed by an Auror?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Oh, no," said Sirius. "No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort's orders, more likely; I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It's a lifetime of service or death."

"Who's this?" Harry asked, pointing at the burn mark between Bellatrix and Narcissa.

"My favorite cousin, Andromeda," said Sirius.

"Andromeda's sisters are still here because they made lovely, respectable pure-blood marriages, but Andromeda married a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks. They've got a daughter a few years older than you."

Harry didn't quite know what to say to that, so he turned away from the tapestry and took in the rest of the room. The most prominent problem was the Doxy-infested curtains. Sirius waved his wand and Summoned a number of large bottles of black liquid with a nozzle at the end. Harry was reminded very much of a Muggle exterminator spraying for ants.

"I laid in a large order of Doxycide after I took a look at the house," Sirius explained as they prepared, tying protective cloths over their nose and mouth. "When I say the word, start spraying immediately. They'll most likely come flying out at us, but one good squirt will paralyze them. When they're immobilized, just throw them in this bucket. Be careful, because Doxys bite and their teeth are poisonous. I've got a bottle of antidote here, but I'd rather nobody needed it."

Harry, Lupin, and Sirius readied themselves for the worst. "All right - squirt!"

Harry had been spraying only a few seconds when a fully-grown Doxy came soaring out of a fold in the material. It had shiny, beetle-like wings that whirred like a mosquito. Harry could see tiny needle-sharp teeth bared at him. Its fairy-like body was covered with thick black hair, and its four tiny fists were clenched with fury. Harry caught it full in the face with a blast of Doxycide. It froze in midair and fell with a surprisingly loud thunk to the worn carpet below. Harry picked it up and threw it in the bucket.

The de-Doxying of the curtains took most of the rest of the day. The curtains were no longer buzzing; they hung limp and damp from the intensive spraying. At the foot of them unconscious Doxys lay crammed in the bucket beside a bowl of their black eggs. The three men lounged in the chairs when their work was done. Nobody was quite willing to say goodbye, and so they talked long into the night.

"I can't wait to see Mother's face when she meets you, Moony."

"I thought we didn't want to hear her," Harry wondered.

"Normally, no," Sirius replied. "But we're got to clean the hallway at some point or another. She'll hear us casting the cleaning spells. Best to get it over with as soon as possible so that it's not looming over us. And besides, we must give our best effort to getting her off that wall. Moony, know anything about Permanent Sticking Charms?"

"They're permanent," Lupin deadpanned.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Do you know anything about reversing them?"

"Sort of negates the concept of permanent, now, doesn't it?"

"Will you stop that?" Sirius demanded.

"I'm only trying to help you understand, Padfoot," Lupin said innocently.

"If there's one thing I understand, it's Padfoot."

Harry cracked a smile as Lupin snickered. "Ah, my old friend, I have missed you."

"I missed you, too," Sirius said quietly, suddenly sober. "The Dementors took most of my happy thoughts away, but I never forgot about you. I lived through arriving at Godric's Hollow more times than I'd care to count. The number of times I faced Peter in the street is without measure. But I held on to some of the good times when I was Padfoot. Being a dog helped, I think."

"Did you do it a lot?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"Very often. I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was innocent. That wasn't a happy thought, so the Dementors couldn't suck it out of me. It kept me sane and knowing who I am. It helped me keep my powers, so when it all became - too much - I could transform in my cell, become a dog. Dementors can't see, you know."

Sirius' own eyes were staring into nothingness, and Harry could tell he wasn't all there at the moment.

"They feel their way toward people by feeding off their emotions. They could tell that my feelings were less- less human, less complex when I was a dog, but they thought, of course, that I was losing my mind like everyone else in there, so it didn't trouble them. But I was weak, very weak, and I had no hope of driving them away from me without a wand.

"Then I saw Peter in that picture-"

"What picture?"

Sirius reached inside his robes and took out a crumpled piece of paper, which he smoothed flat and held out to show them.

It was a photograph of the Weasley family that had appeared in the _Daily Prophet _the previous summer, and there, on Ronald's shoulder, was the rat Animagus that had been called Scabbers. Scabbers was more properly called Wormtail, also known as Peter Pettigrew.

"How did you get this?" Lupin asked Sirius, thunderstruck.

"Fudge," said Sirius. "When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me his paper. And there was Peter, on the front page on this boy's shoulder. I knew him at once. How many times had I seen him transform? And the caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts, to where Harry was. I realized he was perfectly positioned to act if one hint reached his ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength again. He was ready to strike at the moment he could be sure of allies, and to deliver the last Potter to them. If he gave them Harry, who'd dare say he'd betrayed Lord Voldemort? He'd be welcomed back with honours! So you see, I had to do something. Harry was in danger. I was the only one who knew Peter was still alive."

Harry remembered what Mr. Malfoy had told him. "He muttered in his dreams, 'He's at Hogwarts. He's at Hogwarts.'"

"You kept it? Still?" Harry felt goosebumps rising on his arms.

"It was as if someone had lit a fire in my head, and the Dementors couldn't destroy it. It wasn't a happy feeling. More like it was an obsession, but it gave me strength; it cleared my mind. So, one night when they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog. It's so much harder for them to sense animal emotions that they were confused.

"I was thin, very thin. Thin enough to slip through the bars, at least. I swam as a dog back to the mainland. From there, I journeyed north and slipped into the Hogwarts grounds as a dog. I lived in the forest, except when I came to watch the Quidditch, of course. You fly as well as your father did, Harry."

Sirius' attempt to change the subject was a bit clumsy, but Harry forgave him. The distance in Sirius' eyes when he'd been talking about Azkaban was scary. Being surrounded by Dementors with no way to fight back was hellish enough to imagine for five minutes, and Sirius had survived for twelve years!

"Thank you. Flint worked us all over pretty good."

"There's training and then there's talent," Sirius declared. "You've got natural skill, kid. Be proud of it."

"Oh, I am," Harry nodded. "If there's one thing Slytherins have, it's pride."

"With the Slytherins I knew, it was more arrogance. We let it out of them on a fairly regular basis. The things we used to do to Sniv and the Dark Ones-"

"Sniv?" Harry asked.

"Old nickname of Snape's. Short for Snivellus. Tarring him with that was one of our earliest successes."

Harry couldn't imagine Severus Snape snivelling for anybody. Quite the opposite, actually; Snape often made students, particularly Gryffindors, fear for their house points, free time (via ornerous detentions), and a professional dressing down delivered with the most razor-sharp sarcasm imaginable.

"Oh really?" Harry kept his voice neutral. Snape was one of his favourite teachers and Head of Slytherin to boot.

Sirius now looked uncomfortable. "I expect he's grown up a bit, but he used to be a right git."

"He's brilliant at Potions. And Defence. And just about everything else, to be fair."

"I've never said that old Sniv was dumb. It was part of what made the rivalry so interesting. The tricks we used to play were truly astounding."

"Astounding," Lupin repeated dryly. "Sure. Sirius here played a trick on Snape which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me-"

Sirius made a derisive noise. "It served him right," he scoffed. "Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to. He was hoping he could get us expelled!"

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month." Lupin told Harry. "We were in the same year, you know, and to put it mildly, we didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James's talent on the Quidditch field. Anyway, Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be the height of intelligence to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me."

"He tried it?"

"He tried it," Lupin said, nodding. "If he'd got as far as the Shrieking Shack, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf. Your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life. Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was and hated me for it. That's why he spoke out so much against me during the school year."

"How did you become a werewolf?" Harry asked suddenly.

Sirius threw a sharp look at Harry, and he immediately flushed.

"That was so rude, I'm sorry, sir-" he started to babble, but Lupin didn't bat an eye.

"I was a very small boy when I received the Bite," he replied. "My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. There still isn't. The potion that Snape was making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform. I was able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again.

"Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me. But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school." Lupin sighed. "And so, once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, through the secret tunnel, and into the Shrieking Shack."

"And thank Merlin that Dumbledore was so open-minded. My years at Hogwarts were better than I could have imagined, because for the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and James Potter. They deduced what I was and instead of reviling me, they became Animagi. It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school and finally managed it in our fifth year.

"They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them.

"Highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did. And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map and sign it with our nicknames.

"The thought that still haunts me," said Lupin heavily, "is if I'd given the others the slip and bitten somebody. And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless - carried away with our own cleverness.

"I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course. He had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure."

"What sort of animal did my dad turn into?" Harry asked, trying to change the subject. He was uncomfortable with Lupin's plain-spoken guilt.

"James was the most magnificent stag you ever saw," Sirius interjected. "Hence, Prongs. There's not a hunter out there who wouldn't love your dad's rack on his wall."

"A stag, a dog, a rat, and a wolf?"

"We were quite the gang," Lupin said. "We thought nothing could break us. Nothing should have."

A silence fell over the room, the two Marauders living in the past. Harry didn't want these men to eat themselves up inside with guilt. They'd made mistakes, he knew, but what mattered to him was that they were here now when he needed them. Together they had avenged the betrayal. Now it was time to come together and move forward.

Harry felt it was as good a time as any to ask a question that had been on his mind.

"Do I have a godmother?"

Sirius shook his head. "Lily had been planning on asking her best friend, Samantha, but she was killed shortly after we all finished school. Lily said she couldn't imagine anyone else, so there's only me."

"It's more than good enough," Harry said quickly. "I was just wondering."

"No harm in a question, Harry."

That conversation went nowhere, and Harry could only endure the silence for a few more moments before he said, "Professor Lupin?" He hadn't needed to use the man's name all day, but if he let it go much longer, it was liable to be even more awkward.

"I'm not your professor any longer, Harry, and there is no need for you to address me as such."

"That's what I meant to talk about, sir. What should I call you now? Is it Lupin or Remus or Moony or something else?"

Lupin smiled kindly at him. "You may call me whatever you feel most comfortable, Harry, but my preference is for Moony, with Remus being acceptable in public."

"It's going to take some getting used to."

Remus shrugged. "Then it takes some getting used to. We've got lots of time. And what, in turn, should I call you? Will it be Harry, or have you got a secret name of your own?"

_Lord Potter_, he thought for a split second before shaking his head. "No, Harry is fine."

to be continued...


	2. The Cleaning of Grimmauld Place

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Two - The Cleaning of Grimmauld Place**

At breakfast the next morning, Harry was treated to Sirius' self-professed mediocre cooking. The scrambled eggs were a bit runny and the toast needed to be scraped, but Harry wolfed down every bite. He was even allowed to take a second helping, something he could never have done at Privet Drive.

The cleaning of the drawing room continued. A pair of dusty, glass-fronted cabinets was their next target. They were crammed with an odd assortment of objects: a selection of rusty daggers, animal claws, a coiled snakeskin, a number of tarnished silver boxes inscribed with languages Harry could not read, and, least pleasant of all, an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper, full of what Harry was quite sure was blood.

Many of the objects seemed very reluctant to leave their dusty shelves. Sirius sustained a bad bite from a silver snuffbox; within seconds his bitten hand had developed an unpleasant crusty covering like a tough brown glove.

"It's okay," he said, examining the hand with interest before tapping it lightly with his wand and restoring its skin to normal. "Must be Wartcap powder in there."

He threw the box aside into the sack where they were depositing the debris from the cabinets.

There were a number of ancient seals, and, in a dusty box, an Order of Merlin, First Class, that had been awarded to Sirius's grandfather for services to the Ministry.

"It means he gave them a load of gold," said Sirius contemptuously, throwing the medal into the rubbish sack.

They found an unpleasant-looking silver instrument, something like a many-legged pair of tweezers, which scuttled up Harry's arm like a spider when he picked it up, and attempted to puncture his skin. Sirius seized it and smashed it with a heavy book entitled _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_. There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and they all found themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy, until Remus, who had taught Defence Against the Dark Arts, had the sense to slam the lid shut.

Very intriguing was a heavy, ornate gold locket that none of them could open. It was engraved with a serpentine 'S', and Harry thought it quite fine. He slipped it into his pocket for later.

Sirius showed no interest in keeping a large golden ring bearing the Black crest. Harry spent fifteen minutes arguing that instead of rejecting the family legacy, he should work to redeem it. Just when Harry thought he was going to turn blue in the face, Sirius wordlessly slipped the ring onto his finger.

They paused for lunch and trumped down to the kitchen. In their good cheer, however, they must have trodden too heavily on the stairs. As they crossed in front of Mother Black's hidden portrait, she shouted out, "Who trespasses? Unwelcome visitors to the noble and most ancient house of Black, beware! You are not safe here! Leave while you still can!"

The curtains flew back on their own to reveal a portrait of an old woman in a black cap. She had striking blue eyes, though cloudy with age. Her white hair flew in all directions. Her wrinkled skin was emphasized by the severe scowl she wore on her face.

"Yoooou!" she howled, her eyes popping at the sight of them. "Blood traitor! Abomination! Shame of my flesh!"

"Hello, Mother," Sirius said conversationally. "I've brought my little friend over to play."

Mother Black caught sight of Remus. "What is your family name, young man?"

"I am Remus Lupin."

"I know it not!"

"He's a werewolf, Mother."

"Filth!" she shrieked. "Scum! By-product of dirt and vileness! Disease-ridden freak! Begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers?"

"I was invited," Remus replied casually. "By the last remaining Black."

"Ooooohhh!" she moaned. "Lies! Though my line is dead to me, there are others who still make me proud!"

"Your precious Bellatrix is secure in Azkaban, Mother," Sirius interrupted. "Your much vaunted Lord Voldemort is a fading memory."

"The Dark Lord will crush those who dare speak his name!"

"Speaking of the dead," Sirius said brightly, "I'd like to introduce you to the Boy Who Lived."

Mother Black gaped at him.

"Mother, meet Harry Potter."

"Blood traitor!" Mother Black's shriek made Harry jump, even though he'd been expecting it. One particular frequency of her denunciation must have jangled in his ear just right.

"Hello, Missus Black," Harry said coolly. While he knew she hadn't been a Death Eater, she'd thought Voldemort pretty swell. Harry didn't like her.

"Leave the house of my fathers! Take the vermin with you! Begone from my sight!"

"Sorry, Mother," Sirius said, not sounding sorry at all. "I'm afraid it's you who'll be leaving."

"Nothing can break the Permanent Sticking Charm!" she howled. She appeared to be having a seizure. Her eyes rolled around sloppily and drool started dripping from the corners of her mouth.

Sirius turned to Remus. "Well?"

Remus drew his wand and tapped against the edge of the picture frame. He frowned slightly and traced a few lines with the tip of his wand. The wood began glowing orange, and Remus frowned some more.

"Sirius, take a look at this," Remus said as he pointed his finger. He muttered a spell and yellow lines appeared amidst the orange.

"I see," Sirius said, nodding his head slowly. "No, not at all. Is that the Sticking Charm?"

"The orange is. The yellow is the twist to make it Permanent. If we can counter that part of it, the Sticking Charm itself can be removed in the normal fashion."

"Simplicity."

"Not precisely. But at least we have a place to start."

With that, Remus and Sirius set to work, waving their wands. The spells they used were mostly non-verbal, and the ones they did speak, Harry didn't recognize. He couldn't hear much over the din Mother Black made as the two men worked.

She made so much noise that the other portraits awoke and began to yell too, so that Harry actually screwed up his eyes at the noise and clapped his hands over his ears.

Sirius glanced over at Harry. "You can do something about them, if you like."

Harry could use magic! He drew his wand immediately but hesitated, not knowing which spell to cast.

"I recommend a Stunning Charm," Remus advised.

"Which I don't know," Harry pointed out. "That's fifth-year magic."

"And when did they start teaching the Patronus Charm in third year?"

Remus was right. Harry was a wizard with some extraordinary abilities. He'd done as well as many adult wizards in casting magic beyond the Ordinary Wizarding Level. What else could he do?

"What's the incantation?"

"_Stupefy!_ The wand motion is thus."

"_Stupefy._"

Remus turned back to the portrait of Mother Black as Harry took aim at a man whose frame identified him as Jean-Phillipe Black.

"_Stupefy!_"

A feeble shower of red sparks sputtered out of the end of his wand in response. Well, at least that was something. He tried again.

"_Stupefy!_"

Again, Harry shot some sparks, but the portraits kept right on screaming. Spurred on by his failure, Harry kept right on trying. After several more unsuccessful tries, he lowered his wand in exasperation.

"I can't do this with all this racket!" he shouted at Mother Black, who was leading the noise.

"Care for a Deafening Charm?" Sirius offered.

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed gratefully.

"_Nonauditorius!_"

The shouting stopped instantly. All was perfect, peaceful silence. He saw Sirius looking at him with an inquisitive expression and nodded his head affirmatively. He turned back to the portraits and raised his wand. He practised the wand movement a few times and then spoke the word.

The sparks were gone. Now the tip of his wand glowed red briefly before fading away. He tried again. Time lost all sense of meaning. Without the distraction of sound, Harry sank into the flow of his magic. He could feel himself getting abler with the spell. He'd never paid much attention to the particulars of how his magic felt during the casting. Each time it came a little closer to going off properly, and soon a jet of red light with a white core lanced out from his wand at the man who rocked back a bit and then started shouting and shaking his finger at Harry.

It was nearly two hours later when Sirius tapped Harry on the shoulder. Harry, who had exhausted himself trying to silence the portraits, raised his tired head. Sirius said something, and then Harry could hear again. There was barely anything to hear.

"Well done, Harry," Sirius said proudly. "You've done it."

"But they're all still awake," Harry protested weakly. "I didn't Stun them."

"They stopped shouting. Good enough for me."

"Why'd they stop shouting?"

"Maybe they're afraid of you."

Harry laughed. "Is it tea time yet?"

"Past."

Harry's stomach agreed, rumbling loudly.

"How's your mother?"

"Compared to who?"

"Compared to when we started."

"As you can see, she's still on the wall. We've made a bit of progress with understanding the lines of the spell."

"I saw lines two hours ago," Harry said unhelpfully.

Sirius shrugged. "I would have been amazed if we figured it out that quickly. They're really serious about that word permanent."

"All right, Remus?" Harry asked.

"Delightful," Remus said sourly. "You've been deaf; I've had to listen to the most vile ranting. I don't think she stopped to take a breath once."

"Strictly speaking, she doesn't need to breathe," Sirius pointed out.

"Which is unfortunate, because right now I'd happily drown her."

After a very late lunch, during which Harry heard more stories of the Marauders' adventures, they returned to the drawing room.

"It's still a mess in here," Sirius declared loudly as they returned to the first floor.

"Disparage not the house of your birth, ungrateful apostate!"

"Shut up, Mother!" Sirius shouted back.

The fancy roll top writing desk in corner of the drawing room had been rattling and shaking. Now Sirius and Remus drew their wands to confront it. Sirius knelt down and peeked through the keyhole of the lock on the lower cabinet door.

"Yeah, I think this is a Boggart, Moony. Have a look."

"Nothing at all. Good. Let's open it up, then."

Sirius stepped back and cast an Unlocking Charm. With a flick of his wand, the cabinet door opened. With a wan expression, Harry stepped out of the cabinet!

It looked exactly like Harry. It was even wearing his clothes. The only difference was that the lightning bolt scar was on the wrong side of his head. The sadness that was plain on his face would break even the hardest heart.

"Where were you, Sirius?" Boggart-Harry asked in a small voice. "I needed you. Why weren't you there? Why didn't you come for me?"

Sirius looked like he'd been pole-axed. His eyes were wide with horror, and his wand arm fell to his side. His mouth was slightly agape with a silent denial still lingering.

"I was counting on you, Sirius," Boggart-Harry continued relentlessly. "You let me down. I shouldn't have depended on you. My father shouldn't have trusted you. You're no good, Sirius."

Harry watched himself say unthinkable words to his godfather in stupefied horror. Boggart-Harry was reaching out for Sirius with grasping hands. Shocked to action, he drew his wand and stepped in front of the advancing Boggart.

With an ear-ringing crack, a soul-sucking Dementor appeared! The room instantly began to get cold. Harry's breath exhaled as misty clouds. He heard a woman begin to scream and knew it to be his mother in her final moments of life. Tatty black robes concealed scabby, diseased, decaying hands that reached for him.

Harry dug into his mind and pulled out the happiness he'd felt when Sirius had welcomed him home. The strength of the commitment Sirius had made to him and to his family filled Harry with awe and humility. Because of Sirius, Harry had a home. That was the happiest thing ever to happen to him.

"_Expecto patronum!_" Harry screamed.

The silver mist that had always characterized his Patronus before did not emerge. Instead, out of the end of his wand burst a blinding, dazzling, silver animal. He screwed up his eyes, trying to see what it was. It was a stag. It was shining brightly as the moon, and it stood there snorting and pawing at the ground in the mere feet that separated Harry and the Dementor.

The creature of darkness hissed in frustration, but the Patronus would not let it pass. Then the stag lowered its head and pushed at the Dementor with its magnificent horns. Slowly, the evil thing retreated back into the cabinet of the desk and slammed the door.

The stag turned to stared at Harry with its large, silver eyes. Slowly, it bowed its antlered head. It looked for long moments at Sirius and Remus.

"Prongs," Sirius whispered, reaching out a trembling hand toward the creature. It shook itself slightly, then vanished into wisps of silver smoke.

Harry drew gasping breaths. Remus and Sirius were staring at him in frank amazement. In Remus' eyes, Harry saw pride in his former student, pride in his friend's son.

"Well done, Harry! A corporeal Patronus at age thirteen!"

"Almost fourteen."

"It's almost unheard of," Remus declared. "You have amazing talent, Harry."

"The Sorting Hat told me I had power."

"It was right. And it would know."

Sirius' eyes were haunted. The unexpected presence of the Dementor had probably triggered a flashback to Azkaban. Harry felt guilty about that. They'd just started to help Sirius mend from that awful hell, and now they were back to square one. And what did the Boggart turning into Harry mean?

"Sirius?" Harry reached over and tugged on his godfather's sleeve. "Hey? Are you okay?"

"No," Sirius replied in a hollow voice.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I wasn't ready for that."

"Dementors are awful, I know. I'm so sorry-"

"Not them," Sirius interrupted dismissively. "I can handle Dementors. But I was almost done in by a simple Boggart."

"There's nothing simple about a Boggart, Padfoot," Remus chimed in.

"Well, there you have it," Sirius said bitterly. "My biggest fear is letting you down, Harry."

Harry swallowed the lump that developed in his throat. He spread his arms wide and hugged his godfather for the first time. He squeezed hard around the middle, trying to convey his gratitude and respect and love with physical strength.

Though Sirius was startled, he immediately returned the hug, crushing Harry with limbs that were still very skinny.

"I will be there," Sirius whispered as a single tear traced down his cheek. "If I'm not there, it's because I died trying to get to you."

"I know," Harry said, his words muffled against Sirius' chest.

After a few minutes of raw emotion, the two men composed themselves. Remus had, politely, taken a sudden interest in the family tree. He walked back over as Harry was clearing his throat and Sirius was loudly complaining of dust in his eye.

All in all, the drawing room took them the better part of three days to make presentable. From the drawing room, they progressed to the two bedrooms on the same landing. The beds were hidden under the accumulated clutter of who knew how many years. The bath was more scary, because what looked like animated inkblots fiercely defended their homes in the tub, sink, and basins. Working late into the night, the three men were able to declare the bedrooms finished, but they did not complete the first floor by the time of the full moon.

Thursday night, Moony descended to the kitchens with Padfoot, and they locked themselves in one of the stone store rooms that they'd cleaned out.

"The sounds will be awful, Harry," Sirius cautioned. "Without the Wolfsbane Potion, Moony gets a bit temperamental."

"Is it really all that bad?" Harry asked.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Let's put it this way: I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted _because_ I came to Hogwarts. The Shrieking Shack and the tunnel that leads to it were built for my use. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumour. Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it."

"And that's without the Wolfsbane Potion?"

"Correct."

"But why don't you have it?"

Remus shrugged carelessly. "I'm not working with Snape any more. He was only providing the potion at Dumbledore's insistence. There are few Potions Masters who can brew the thing properly, and none of them give it away for free. So, I tried not to get too used to taking it while I was teaching."

Harry and Sirius both offered to buy the potion for him, but Remus would have none of it. "I lived most of my life without it, Padfoot. I'm a tough old wolf."

"But it can help!"

"What helps me is you," Remus said bluntly. "You and Wormtail and Prongs helped me."

"Then I'll help you now," Sirius declared. "And when Harry masters his form, I'm sure he'll be champing at the bit to join us."

How did Sirius know Harry so well?

Remus smiled. "I might have guessed you'd be corrupting him."

"He could use with a little positive corruption."

Had he suddenly become invisible?

"I don't think you'll be able to hear us up on the third floor, but maybe I should put up some Silencing Charms," Sirius said speculatively.

"If you want to," Harry said with a shrug. "I'm just going to be doing homework."

"Summer just started, Harry!" Sirius sounded almost offended.

"And if I get my work done, I'll be able to enjoy it without guilt."

"Moony, do you know who he reminds me of?"

"Certainly not Prongs."

"Correct."

"Lily?"

"In a nutshell. That's exactly what she would say on Friday nights."

Everyone always talked about his dad, but Harry had seldom heard any stories of his mum. He felt very warm inside as his godfather compared him to his mother. He wanted to ask about her, but now was not the time.

"What else am I going to do by myself?" he asked instead. "I'm not about to go wandering around this place."

"A very smart idea," Sirius agreed. "I guess you'll _have_ to do it, then," he said mournfully.

"I'll try not to enjoy it," Harry offered.

Sirius shuddered. "_Enjoying_ homework. It's twisted."

Harry managed to get quite a bit of work done that night, actually. He knocked off his reading for History of Magic and scribbled about five feet on the Statute of Secrecy. Hopefully he would get extra credit for bringing up the relevance of the Magical Child Protection Act. If Muggleborn children didn't grow up in the Muggle world, they couldn't very well pose a risk to the statute. One task complete, he began his reading for Transfiguration and fell asleep with the book on his chest.

The next morning, Harry made breakfast without asking. Sirius and Remus both looked like they'd been brawling. The men lingered over teacups, not saying much. Remus in particular looked very haggard, even worse than the other times Harry had seen him after a full moon. He could attribute the change only to the lack of Wolfsbane Potion.

"So what are we doing today?" he asked to break the silence.

"Taking it easy," Sirius answered at once. "We can try a pass at the ballroom, I think, but after last night, I really don't want to exert myself."

"We could just skiv off," Harry suggested. Both men looked like they could use the rest.

"Maybe for a bit."

"Tell me a story," Harry requested. Now was the time to follow up his impulse from last night. "I want to hear about my mum."

Sirius and Remus looked at each other. Slow grins spread over their faces. Sirius sighed dramatically. "Oh, where to begin? Lily Evans was the smartest witch we knew. She was at the top of nearly all her classes. She was absolutely passionate about magic. She had a feel for it that made all the purebloods rather, shall we say, _green_ with envy."

"Quite remarkable for a Muggleborn witch," Remus interjected. "But she was never boastful about her skill. She had a mind like a steel trap. During the war, she was one of our best planners."

"Handy with a wand, too," Sirius added. "She out-duelled many a Death Eater. Taught James a thing or two, as well, I recall."

"That she did. Lily was definitely worth her stuffing. None of us were surprised when she was named a prefect and Head Girl."

"She had pluck. You always knew where you stood with her, because she didn't hesitate to tell you so. She certainly told James off more times than I can conveniently count. And when things changed, she didn't pause to reconsider either."

"When did they start going together?" Harry asked.

"Seventh year. Then we finished school, and they got married that winter. I was best man at the wedding, you know. You came along about three years later. She was a royal bitch for nine months," Sirius declared. "She threw me through the window one time, and all I did was lick her."

"She might have been more receptive if you'd been a dog at the time, Padfoot."

"I wasn't about to let her wipe that delicious chocolate ice cream off on an unworthy napkin. There wasn't time to transform."

"You _licked_ her?" Harry asked incredulously.

Sirius looked completely unapologetic as he flashed a cocky grin back at Harry. "It seemed like a funny idea at the time. When I was being hexed through the window, not so much."

Harry snickered. _Way to go, Mum,_ he thought.

The ballroom was the cleanest room they'd seen so far, but that wasn't saying much. There were no boxes of junk to sort through, but dust covered every surface at least an inch thick. The curtains here were also infested with Doxys. Thankfully, Sirius had indeed laid in a large supply of Doxycide.

As they worked, Harry thought about what he'd learned about his mum. It didn't jive at all with what he'd learned about Muggleborns to date. They were supposed to be snotty and prissy about being special. Apparently Lily Evans had been humble about her gift. They were supposed to be inferior to pureblood wizards. Lily Evans had consistently made top marks. Harry could only conclude that either his mother was a rare exception or his friends tended to exaggerate.

They managed to finish off the ballroom and the first floor bath on Saturday. The three men felt a vast sense of accomplishment as they declared the first floor clean. They spent the remainder of that day fruitlessly attempting to remove Mother Black from the wall.

Unable to help in that endeavour, Harry sent his eagle owl, Regal, off to deliver letters to his friends. Sirius had said that his friends were welcome at the house any time, and Harry hadn't forgotten. With permission, he'd invited the whole gang over for the next morning.

Draco was the first to arrive, and he came through the Floo promptly at eight.

"Harry!" The two boys shook hands manfully. "You're looking well, I see. Not spending the holiday with Muggles agrees with you."

"And I agree with it," Harry replied with a nod of his head.

"This place doesn't look so bad," Draco noted, taking in the now clean drawing room. "It's quite nice, actually. Those cabinets are a bit empty, though."

"We put a lot of effort in here. Don't worry, we left lots for you to help with."

"Good thing I brought back-up, then."

"What do you mean?"

Draco snapped his fingers imperiously. With a bang, two house elves appeared. One was wearing an old pillowcase, while the other wore a ratty length of cloth wrapped around like a toga.

"Nibby and Dobby are here to help as well. Isn't that right, Nibby?"

The elf nodded rapidly. "Oh yes, Master Draco, Nibby is here to help. Nibby will clean and tidy and polish and work very hard."

"Well, that ought to make things easier. Sirius says old Kreacher hasn't cleaned anything in ages."

Draco raised an eyebrow incredulously. "An elf that doesn't clean?"

"Oh, shameful, shameful it is!" Nibby wailed. "How can he be derelict in his duty?"

"I don't know. Actually, I've never even seen him."

"Maybe there isn't any Kreacher," Draco suggested. "What if he's just saying? I don't know of any house elf that can stand to see a messy room."

"Sirius wouldn't make up a story about having a house elf," Harry said hotly.

"Easy, mate," Draco said hastily, waving a hand cautiously in the air. "I mean, maybe the elf up and _died_ and Sirius just doesn't know."

"Well, we'll find him when we clean, I guess," Harry reasoned. "Good show on thinking to bring those two. They'll help a lot."

Pansy arrived a second later, and she also brought two elves, Ashwe and Mehwe. Both wore matching dish towels with a slit for the head fastened with a bit of twine. They eyed Dobby and Nibby carefully. Nibby stared right back, but Dobby looked away.

"Only two, Draco?" Pansy asked lightly. "Couldn't spare any more?"

"They're busy," Draco replied loftily. "Big manor to clean, you know. Not like you'd understand."

"It has to be big to contain that swollen head of yours," she replied just as snottily. "You have to use magic just to fit it through doors."

"I can't help it if my brain takes up a lot of room," he shot back.

"Fat head."

"My head is not fat!" Draco half-shouted.

Pansy smiled sweetly at Draco. She had won the little exchange, so she could afford to be gracious. She leaned in and kissed her boyfriend with a loud smacking sound. "My fat head," she said with a touch of satisfaction as she ruffled his hair.

Before Draco could wax indignant about either having his hair mussed or being called the name the gang customarily reserved for either Goyle or Crabbe, the fireplace roared to life as Blaise arrived.

"Harry!" she squealed, and hugged him tightly.

"Urk!" he grunted, hugging her back and trying not to make it seem like he was eager to stop. "Hi, Blaise."

"Ease up, Blaise. You're going to crack ribs." Draco came to his rescue. "Where's my hug?"

Blaise narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms across her chest. "You don't get one, Malfoy. My hugs are reserved for nice people."

"I'm nice!" he protested. "Pansy, aren't I nice?"

"Draco is _so_ nice," Pansy gushed. "Nice and handsome, nice and polite, nice and muscular."

"Stop that. I'm going to be sick," Blaise declared.

The fireplace roared again to announce Crabbe. "Hey guys," he said in greeting, his voice now settled into a husky baritone. "Wow, nice room. Looks great."

"Thank you," Harry said. Crabbe and Goyle seldom had cutting words for anyone. They seldom had many words, full stop.

Millie arrived next, wearing very grubby robes. "If we're going to clean, we're going to get dirty," she said. "No sense in destroying my good robes. Which is good, because I don't have any good robes. Anymore."

Jenna brought Harry a house-warming gift of a cedar candle. By all appearances it was a block of cedar wood, but the wick sticking out the top proclaimed otherwise.

"It'll fill even a big house like this one," she told him.

Harry was quite touched by the thoughtful present. "Jenna, you're the best. This is great."

Blaise looked very unhappy. She probably wished she'd thought to bring a house-warming present.

"My parents suggested it, but I picked it out." Jenna's smile contained none of her usual smirk. "I'm glad you like it." She turned to Draco. "Where's _your_ house-warming gift, Mister Proper Manners?"

"I'm making the house liveable?"

"Ah," she said, sounding slightly disappointed.

Goyle arrived with a silent nod at everyone by way of hello. On his heels came Tim, who looked like an unmade bed. His robes were wrinkled, his hair hadn't been combed, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Shut up, Parkinson," was the first thing out of his mouth.

"I didn't say anything!" she protested.

"Good. Keep it that way."

"Now see here, Nott-" she began hotly, pointing her finger imperiously.

"Hello, everyone!" Sirius said jovially as he entered the drawing room.

"Hello, Mister Black," Harry's friends said politely.

Sirius scowled fiercely at them. "You say 'Mister Black', and I turn around to look for my father. I won't answer unless it's to 'Sirius'. The first one of you to make a pun out my name will be forced to clean without magic. It gets worse from there. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sirius, perfectly clear," Harry said with exaggerated patience.

"Good." Sirius was all smiles again. "We're going to the ground floor. Everyone follow me."

Sirius did not jump over the bannister but led the gang down to the entry hall where Remus was scratching his head in front of Mother Black's portrait. The curtains were closed, but as the sounds of their footsteps rang down, the curtains flew back, and the vile old witch started raining abuse down on Remus.

"Filth! Vermin! Disease-ridden swine! I command you to leave the house of my fathers at once!"

"Oh, shut up," Remus replied. "You're boring me."

"Of course you remember Professor Lupin," Sirius said.

"Just Remus, if you please. Hello, children. It's a pleasure to see you all again."

"Hello, Prof- I mean, Remus," Jenna said warmly. "What are you doing here?"

"Remus is one of my old school friends, as you know," Sirius answered. "He's been good enough to lend a wand to cleaning up this ramshackle old place."

"What further trash do you parade through this honoured house, oh ungrateful child?" Mother Black demanded, eyeing the others.

"Trash!" Draco repeated, completely outraged. "Trash? I am Draco Augustus Malfoy, son of Narcissa Black. I demand an apology!"

Mother Black's image fell out of her chair. "Oh my dear boy," she whispered. "Please forgive an old witch for her failing eyes. With vermin and blood traitors running rampant, I assumed that only more would come. I am so deeply sorry."

Draco still looked very angry. "Blood traitors? Before you stands the whole of Slytherin fourth form, you blind old cooz! How dare you insult the name of Malfoy, the name of Parkinson? And I am of your family!"

"Please," Mother Black pleaded, sounding genuinely remorseful. "I am an old witch, blind of eye and quick of tongue."

"And slow of wit," Pansy sneered.

"A thousand apologies, Miss Parkinson. Now that you are closer, I can see the resemblance to your noble grandfather, may he know eternal peace."

"Is she like this all the time?" Draco asked Harry.

"Yes, actually. She's stuck to the wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm, and we haven't figured out how to get her down."

"It can't be done," Tim said instantly. "They call it permanent for a reason."

"So we've noticed," Sirius said dryly. "We haven't had any luck unravelling the spell."

"She's stuck to that wall for good," Tim continued. "So the only solution is to remove the wall."

Silence reigned, even over Mother Black. You could have heard a pin drop.

"It's brilliant!" Sirius exclaimed.

"Ingenious," Remus praised.

"I _told_ you he was smart," Harry said.

"Impossible!" Mother Black shrieked.

But it was not.

Sirius and Remus carefully pried the wall away from the support beams holding up the staircase. Sure enough, Mother Black's portrait went with the wall it was stuck to. She continued to call down doom upon them as Sirius' wand directed the wall down to the far end of the hall. When she'd been relegated as far away as possible, Sirius turned to Tim with a grin.

"My young friend, you have done me a great service. Tell me, what can I do for you?"

"Let me clean the library," Tim said instantly.

"Done. I'll even join you." Sirius looked at the others. "I recommend we deploy the elves into the dining room. Divide up the sitting room and arsenal however you wish, but Tim and I will need help in the library, too. There are a few silver weapons in the arsenal, Remus, so you'd better take the sitting room."

"Professor Lupin? I mean, Mister Lupin?" Pansy spoke up politely.

"Sirius, we didn't go and get old, did we?"

"Well, you got respectable. Title and all."

"Remus?" Pansy corrected herself.

"Yes, Pansy?"

"Am I right in thinking you know a lot about astronomy?"

Remus didn't bat an eye at the sensitive question. "I certainly do. As I remember, that's your favourite subject, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir. If you wouldn't mind, could we talk about it and work together?"

Remus smiled. "I'd like that."

"Hey, don't forget about me," Crabbe spoke up. Astronomy was his favourite subject as well.

Jenna went with them into the sitting room. Blaise, of course, wanted to get into the library as much as Tim. Millie, not much of a reader, surprisingly joined them.

Draco volunteered for the arsenal, which he thought would be very interesting. Goyle naturally wanted to look too, so he picked that room as well. Harry threw in his lot with them.

Draco and Pansy both directed their elves to make the dining room absolutely immaculate.

"I mean it," Draco said to a miserable-looking Dobby. "I want to be able to _eat_ off that floor."

"Dobby understands, sir," the elf said obediently, blinking his great eyes several times.

"Sirius?" Harry asked. "Where's Kreacher? Your elf?"

"Who cares?" was Sirius' flippant answer.

"He could help, couldn't he?"

"If by help, you mean hinder, then yes. He was a royal pain while I was cleaning out your room. He kept trying to run off and save things I was throwing away."

"Well he's been alone for a long time, right? Maybe he just needs to get used to real people again. And maybe the other elves can help." Harry turned to Nibby. "Would you try talking to Kreacher?"

Nibby considered the question, tipping his head to the side and scratching his chin. He yelped when Draco nudged him with a foot. "Oh yes, sir, Nibby would help. Nibby will tell this Kreacher that it is an elf's place to clean and cook and carry."

"We's be helping, too," one of Pansy's elves piped up squeakily. "Kreacher is being a bad elf to let this house get so bad. We make him into a good elf so that he keeps it good once we make it clean."

Pansy's nose rose slowly into the air as she looked around proudly.

"Well, thank you, elves," Sirius said. "It would be hard for me and Harry to keep it up on our own."

"What would you do when I go back to Hogwarts?"

"Burn the place and rent a flat."

"Not after we clean it," Harry warned. "I won't do all this work for nothing."

"Then let's go rent a flat."

"No way," Harry argued. "I like this big, old place. I like my room."

Sirius' grin was a bit goofy. "Then I guess we're staying. Kreacher! Come here at once!"

With an ear-splitting bang, a miserable-looking elf appeared. Except for a filthy rag tied like a loincloth around its middle, it was completely naked. It looked very old. Its skin seemed to be several times too big for it and, though it was bald like all house-elves, there was a quantity of white hair growing out of its large, batlike ears. Its eyes were a bloodshot and watery grey, and its fleshy nose was large and rather snoutlike, just like the heads on the wall.

The elf bowed low, nearly touching its nose to the carpet. "Kreacher has answered like the good elf he is," he said clearly before dropping into a still audible mutter, "even though Master smells like a drain and a criminal to boot."

Three of the other elves looked horrified at Kreacher's awful words. Dobby just stared blankly.

Kreacher's nose was still sunk into the carpet. In a hoarse voice that was deep and sounded like bullfrogs, it muttered, "Whole house smells like beast and vermin and slime. Oh, my poor mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let into her house, what would she say to old Kreacher? Oh, the shame of it! Blood traitors and werewolves! Poor old Kreacher, what can he do?"

"What was that, Kreacher?" Sirius asked sharply.

"Kreacher said nothing, Master. You have called for Kreacher. Command Kreacher," he requested, before immediately adding in his undertone, "so that Kreacher can leave his odious presence."

"Kreacher," Draco snapped imperiously. "Look at me. My mother was Narcissa Black. Are you casting aspersions on my blood?"

Kreacher wilted like a hothouse flower taken into a howling blizzard. "Oh, young master, do not be playing fun with Kreacher." It looked up with insanely hopeful eyes. "Do it be true?"

"My name is on the Black family tree. You can look it up. I'm Draco Malfoy." He could not have sounded prouder. "Your master was cleared by the Ministry for the matter he was falsely imprisoned for. Do not call him a criminal again!" Now Draco sounded genuinely angry.

Kreacher threw himself onto the floor in front of Sirius and started to bawl. "Master has seen the light! Mistress always held out hope that the world would change you. Many times Kreacher heard her say this."

Sirius looked down at the elf with revulsion, and the expression he had when he looked at Draco was unfathomable. "Stand up Kreacher. Master commands."

Kreacher stood ramrod straight. "What will Kreacher do?"

"You're going to work with these other elves to clean the dining room."

"Kreacher does not need other elves. Kreacher will clean. It will be cleanest dining room in all of Britain."

Sirius still looked as though breakfast had disagreed with him, but he said, "Let's get to work."

Harry led the way to the arsenal. As they approached the door at the end of the entry hall, they could hear the muffled noise of Mother Black as she screamed face-first into the floor. Perhaps it was best they didn't let Kreacher see that. Draco opened the door and bowed graciously as he gestured for them to enter.

"Ladies first."

Harry grinned at him. "There's no ladies allowed in the arsenal."

"What a splendid idea."

The arsenal was, in a word, impressive. Even despite the dust, Harry could tell that many things here were of the highest quality. There were no information cards like at a museum, so Harry knew he would be doing a bit of research onto where these things came from.

One piece looked like a set of protective pads he'd once seen an American footballer wearing, only done in red-enamelled metal. A tatty, flowing black cape, grey with dust, was attached at the shoulders. Arcane symbols decorated the armour in fading blue paint.

Another stand had a strange leather cap decorated with inky black feathers. Harry didn't need anyone to tell him it was full of Dark magic. It raised the hair on his arms when he stood too close.

"Wicked," Draco said with admiration. "This is a real man's place."

"You're right, Draco," Harry said. "We need to find a place like this up at school."

"You've got one," Draco replied, cocking an eyebrow. "Or have your forgotten about the Chamber of Secrets, Lord Potter?"

Hearing the name he'd really only used once before sent a shiver down his spine. In the confrontation with Tom Riddle, the boy whom Lord Voldemort had once been, whose spirit had been raised out of a magical diary by an unsuspecting Ginny Weasley, Harry had claimed the title Heir of Slytherin. Riddle, in whose veins ran the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, had been defeated with his own monster. The queen of all serpents, Eithne the Basilisk, now answered to Harry. That night, in thanks for saving his sister's life, Percy Weasley had knelt at Harry's feet and pledged his loyalty to Lord Potter.

Harry still didn't know how he felt about claiming to be the Lord of anything. He'd used Percy a couple of times during third year, but he'd had no choice. He'd needed to forge his Hogsmeade permission slip, and only Percy knew the secrets of the Marauder's Map, secrets he'd taken from his younger twin brothers, Fred and George. That had been a matter of life and death. By magical law, not wizarding law, that created a debt between Percy and Harry. Percy had sworn his life to Harry in payment.

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry said casually. "But I wouldn't want to listen to you moan about how dirty you'd get every time we went in."

"We could probably fix that, you know. It's only dirty from neglect. A few cleaning spells would make it much better."

"Let's see your cleaning spells," Harry invited, gesturing at the disgustingly dirty room.

Draco obliged, and soon they were working up a tremendous sweat.

"So you certainly jumped to Sirius' defence back there," Harry observed to Draco.

"I object to being called trash," Draco said, still sounding bristled. "That barmy witch obviously filled Kreacher's head with her rantings. If there'd been a person living here, he'd probably be just fine."

"I appreciate it," Harry told his best mate. "It means a lot to me that you like my godfather."

"He's my family," Draco replied with a shrug and another casual Scouring Charm. "I don't much care about the stuff that happened before we were born. What's important is how things go now. He's my family, he's your father's best friend, he's your godfather, and you're my best mate in the world. It's pretty simple to me. Mother and Father, on the other hand, think things are complicated."

"I know," Harry said. "I thought Sirius and your dad might start fighting when we saw them on the platform. You should have seen the way they were staring at each other."

"That wouldn't have been good," Draco observed, stating the obvious.

The boys worked hard until the rumbling from Goyle's stomach became too deafening to permit conversation. Strangely, even the usual jibes about his appetite failed to elicit any response. In fact, Goyle looked like he'd lost some weight. Oddly enough, he didn't look any healthier for it. His skin was sallow, and dark circles under his eyes proclaimed his lack of rest. He hadn't said more than ten words all day, either, which was quiet even for him.

"Oh, I'm fine," he sighed heavily when they inquired. "Just haven't been sleeping well." He paused, seeming to set himself. "My dog Stanley died a couple days after I got home."

"Oh no," Draco exclaimed.

"Goyle, I'm so sorry," Harry said.

Goyle coughed and grunted several times, and Harry knew he was trying to hide his emotions.

"How old was he?" Harry asked gently.

"Almost fifteen. He was an old dog."

"That is old."

"I've had him since he was a puppy. He was my friend," Goyle choked out, "and I miss him." Tears were welling up in the stoic boy's eyes, and he closed them tightly, trying to keep his composure.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "I had to get out. I needed to be with you guys. Back home is just too raw for me."

"Sure, mate," Harry responded. He'd never had a pet until recently, but he knew how he'd feel if anything happened to Regal, his eagle owl that had been a Christmas present from Draco three years ago.

Goyle swallowed hard and seemed to pull himself together. He nodded firmly. "I'm okay now. Let's eat."

They broke for a quick bite of a meal not quite lunch, not quite tea. It amounted to a cup of tea to wash down the sandwiches in addition to the pumpkin juice. With four capable elves in the kitchen, they feasted on hot pastrami, a food Sirius claimed to have been craving. Harry guessed that he himself might start developing cravings for it as he fought down the urge to lick his fingers when he was done.

Though the dining room was not quite finished, the effort the elves had put in was very noticeable. Sandwiches were served on fine china bearing the Black family crest and motto. Sirius stared at it in obvious disgust until he forced himself to look away.

"So, who do you favour in the Cup, this year?" he asked Draco.

"Montrose, of course. Best of all time."

"They have been doing well the past few years."

"Years?" Draco repeated incredulously.

"Yes. Six in a row, isn't it?"

"Try ten of the last thirteen!"

"Well, there is that," Sirius admitted. "Tim, what about you?"

"Huh?" Tim had been staring into his juice, deep in thought.

"The Cup this year. Who's your pick?"

"Oh. Um, Wimbourne."

"The Wasps?" Draco exclaimed. "You're kidding. They even got beat by Chudley last weekend!"

Tim gave him a withering look. "Whatever. I don't care."

That was odd. Tim loved Quidditch, and he and Draco often got into rousing rows about teams, matches, plays, and players. For him to not care about being dead wrong in his prediction was very peculiar.

"I agree with Draco," Harry said to ease past what could have been an awkward moment. "Montrose has been phenomenal this year." Harry read the sport pages.

The boys discussed Quidditch ad nauseum, which was no surprise given that the World Cup final was being held in Britain this year. Pansy and Jenna were giggling at the far end of the table, not paying any attention at all to the boys. Millie, of course, was arguing with Draco about a bad call during the last world final. Blaise sat in the middle, not talking to anyone and looking bored out of her mind.

At length, Harry's friends had to go home for dinner. Draco left with a promise that he and the elves would return in the morning. Not to be outdone, Pansy ordered her elves to come at first light and help Kreacher prepare breakfast.

Tim barely said goodbye before he left, and Blaise was nearly mute as she entered the Floo. Crabbe and Goyle both left for Pike Hollow, as their families were dining together. Millie squeezed Harry's breath out of him as she said farewell.

"'Parting is such sweet sorrow,'" Jenna said, dramatically placing one hand against her forehead.

"Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act two, Scene two," Remus recited. "Though I prefer Dickens, myself. 'The pain of parting is nothing compared to the joy of meeting again.'"

"That's beautiful," Jenna said with a smile. "I'm not really a fan of the theatre," she admitted. "I just like to spout a quote every now and then. Makes one seem cultured."

Remus and Sirius both laughed. Harry, too.

"And on that note, good night."

With a flash, Jenna disappeared into the Floo Network.

"I think I'm going to depart as well," Remus said, reaching for the Floo powder. "I've spent every waking hour for the past week here, and I'm starting to think I live here."

"We've got plenty of spare rooms," Harry joked. "Some of them are even clean."

"If you need a place, Moony, you know you don't have to ask."

Remus smiled gratefully. "I know. But I've got to feed the cat."

"Moony, you don't have a cat."

"It's my neighbour's cat. She's on vacation."

"Didn't you go with her?"

"Not that Cheryl isn't a very nice girl, but she's got the most horrid voice imaginable." Remus' smile was a bit rueful now. "They're never perfect, are they?"

"They'd be boring if they were," Sirius said wisely.

"Good night, old friend." The two men embraced briefly, thumping each other on the back in a manly fashion.

"Good night, Harry. See you tomorrow."

"Bye, Remus."

In a flash of green flame, Remus was gone.

Harry and Sirius looked at each other. They'd had scarcely a handful of minutes together since going out for pizza nearly a week ago. Even those few moments had been largely related to work they were doing on the house.

"So now what?" Harry asked, just to break the silence.

"I'm content to not do any more work," Sirius offered.

"That's generous. Let's do something fun."

"What did you have in mind? What's fun?"

"Well, Quidditch is fun, but you can't play much of that indoors."

"Very true. And there's only two of us."

"Do you play chess?"

"Not for a long time. I'm afraid I never was very good at it. If it's chess you wanted, maybe I should have gone and Moony stayed."

Harry didn't care about playing chess. It had only been an idea. Somehow he didn't want to suggest Gobstones or Exploding Snap. "I've got a few music crystals we could listen to. Do you like music? Let me tell you about the time I went to see Wand Smasher and ended up getting snaps with them at intermission."

Monday morning found Harry cleaning bookshelves in the library with Draco, Jenna, Pansy, and Remus. Draco and Pansy weren't doing much cleaning, though. They'd snuck away in the far stacks for a snog. Jenna and Harry had giggled about it as they worked. Together, they would empty a bookcase one shelf at a time (with magic, of course), and scour until the wood practically gleamed of its own accord. Then each book was picked up, clapped, dusted off, and put away. It was very slow going.

Jenna kept up a constant stream of chatter about the Quidditch World Cup, which her dad had got tickets for months and months ago. He'd refused to elaborate on the details of how he'd come by them, Jenna said conspiratorially. He'd just told his family to be grateful for them.

Harry hadn't gotten tickets. He was in a bit of a muddle, for tickets had sold out within days, and now only two months away, finding a way to attend would be problematic at best.

He scowled as an unpleasant realization came to him. He was Harry Potter. He could get tickets if he wanted them. All he had to do was talk to the right people and all kinds of magic could happen.

He hated it. As much as he liked living in this very tall house, he'd much rather be perfectly anonymous in Godric's Hollow with his mum and dad.

Harry shoved that wistfulness away. It was never going to be like that. Where he lived now was worlds better than where he had been, and he wouldn't diminish it with comparisons to impossible fantasies.

"I've got to contact the Department of Magical Games and Sports," Harry said when Jenna paused for breath. "We don't have tickets yet."

"But tickets sold out months ago."

"Harry Potter gets to go to the World Cup," Harry said sourly. "They'll be falling all over themselves to make it happen."

Jenna grimaced with him. "You can't change it, you know. You're always going to be the hero of the world to some people."

"That's what I hate about it. I didn't even do anything."

"That will come in time," she reassured him. "You've just got to get trained up a bit more, that's all. Then you'll do great things."

"How do you know?" Harry wondered at her steadfast faithfulness in him.

"Because you already have." Jenna had either perfected her sarcasm or she meant every word. "He's still out there, Harry. I haven't forgotten what happened in our first year. He's going to try to come back again. What else can he do? And if that doesn't happen by the time we finish school, I think you're going to go after him. There's a piece of him still clinging to life, and you want to break it."

It seemed that Jenna, when she wasn't giggling, had a very keen eye. She'd pegged it exactly what Harry had in mind.

"If ridding the world of a black stain of murdering evil doesn't merit a few tickets to a Quidditch match, I'd like to know what would."

Harry grinned. Jenna always could seem to make him smile. She had an infectious humour that bordered on the outrageous, and Harry had learned how to find the funny things in life from her.

Remus came by just then to check on their progress. They'd managed to restore an entire row of bookshelves by themselves. He had tackled the darkest corner by himself and emerged dirty and scratched.

"Ladder decided it didn't want to be climbed any more," he said in response to Harry's silent inquisition. "Very nice job, you two. Where are Pansy and Draco?"

"We're right here," Draco said, picking up a book and clapping the cover, sending a cloud of dust billowing. He accidentally inhaled and fell to a coughing fit.

"You're very practised at this, I see," Remus said dryly.

Jenna snickered. "That's Draco, always helping."

"Did you lose Pansy in the stacks?" Harry asked pointedly.

"She got thirsty and went for a drink."

"She could just have summoned one of her elves," Jenna said scornfully. "Draco, you need to stop making up stories."

Pansy appeared then, and she had a book in her hand. Harry couldn't read the text upside down, but he plainly recognized star patterns.

"All reading and no working?" Remus asked.

"Sorry," Pansy apologized. "I looked at the title and had to open it. Now I can't put it down."

"What?" Remus said sharply. "Can't? At all?"

"Oh, not like that," Pansy said reassuringly. "It's just fascinating."

"Please be careful with your words," he pleaded. "There are books like that, that you can't stop reading. It's very tricky magic to undo the curse."

"Well then it's a good thing you're the best Defence teacher we ever had," Pansy said, tossing her black hair with a quick head movement. She wasn't wearing her pigtails today. Her hair was very shiny and kept falling forward into her face.

"What do you say we drag the elves away from cleaning and have lunch?" Draco suggested. "I've worked up quite an appetite."

"Doing what?" Jenna wondered as they crossed the hallway into the dining room.

Sirius looked to be having a lot of fun. He'd painted a target on the far wall and expanded a dustbin to occupy the space all along the bottom of the wall. He, Goyle, and Crabbe were taking turns flinging the Black family china at the target. The shattered dishes fell into the dustbin with a great clatter. A scoreboard done in flaming red and green letters proclaimed that Gryffindor was beating Slytherin by sixty points.

"Hah-hah!" Sirius laughed with child-like glee. Harry supposed Sirius had a right to break it if he wanted to, but now what were they going to eat on?

"Wow, that looks like way more fun than dusty old books," Draco exclaimed.

For no apparent reason, Pansy jabbed him hard in the side.

"Ow!"

"Brat."

"What was that for?"

"Because you're a brat."

"Hello, children!" Sirius didn't even look winded. "Tired of the library already?"

"It's lunchtime, Sirius," Harry replied.

"Already?"

"Yup."

"Time flies when you're making ugly dishes fly."

"We're about to have the elves make lunch. Any requests?"

While the elves were reassigned, Harry and the others got into the game. Remus joined Sirius' team, with their score being averaged. All of the Slytherins were averaged as well, so their individual scores counted for less. Though they made it a close contest, the former Gryffindors won.

"Good sport," Draco said. "But I'm afraid we're out of dishes."

"Time to repair the wall, then," Sirius replied. With a wave of his wand, the dustbin returned to normal size and walked outside to be emptied. The target vanished, and the scars left by the shattered crockery melted away.

After lunch, Sirius and Harry went to inspect the final touches the elves had done on the arsenal and sitting room. The humans had done a lot of work on Sunday, but letting the elves finish the job let them look at other interesting parts of the house.

The armour was burnished to a brilliant shine. Even the bits with Dark magic in them looked very glamorous. Not a speck of dust could be seen anywhere. Harry would not have recognized it for the same room had he not cleaned some of it himself.

The sitting room was a cosy little affair with plush chairs and a shining tea service on a corner table. It wasn't silver but white gold, Sirius told him. The elves had done an amazing job in here as well.

"This is actually starting to look like a house again instead of a dust heap."

"I told you, Sirius, it just needed a little work."

"We'll get there, Harry. Thanks for inviting your friends over to help."

"No problem."

The elves had been a tremendous help, there could be no doubt. They started on the entry hall and had it looking dazzling by dinner time. The crystal chandelier once more shed radiant light. The house seemed more cheerful now.

The only room on the ground floor not finished was now the library. Their progress was retarded by the fact that most of the Slytherins couldn't help but take a "quick" peek at interesting books. Sirius declared that it would be an on-going project to be worked on as time allowed.

With the ground floor otherwise complete and the first floor fully clean, the party moved to the second floor on Tuesday. Remus had a job interview to go to, so he couldn't come by. Sirius went back to the library.

All the teenagers were back as they tackled the duelling room. With five elves at work, it was immaculate by tea time. After a quick snack, the children returned to the room for a little bit of practice with some of their other spells.

"Come on then," Draco said to Harry. "Let's give it a go."

"I'm knackered," Harry declined as he sprawled out on one of the chairs that lined the wall. "Though I suppose that _would_ make it a fair fight."

Draco scowled. "Just for that, I'm not going to play fair."

"Not like you would have played fair anyway," Harry shot back. "You know, I've never properly yelled at you for the last time we duelled."

"What for?"

"Casting a snake at me?" Harry asked, still not believing it. "Completely unfair, _and_ as a result the whole school thought I was the Heir of Slytherin."

"You _are_ the Heir of Slytherin."

"Not at the time, I wasn't."

"Very well, then," Draco said pompously. "I apologize for helping you discover one of your magical gifts."

"Git."

"Prat."

"Centaur's earwax."

Jenna let out a peal of laughter. "Nice one, Harry."

"Thank you, Jenna. Be a dear and duel Draco so I can have some peace."

"Do I have to use my off hand?"

"Okay, that's enough," Draco declared.

"Maybe someone will trade wands with me," Jenna speculated. "Then we ought to be just about even, Draco."

"Leave poor Draco alone," Pansy cooed sympathetically, rubbing Draco's shoulders gently. "If you want to duel someone, Jenna, pick on Blaise."

"Me?" Blaise hadn't been very talkative. She'd focused on cleaning the walls, a task which kept her a bit distant from the others.

"Yes, you."

"Why me?"

Now Pansy appeared irritated. "Don't argue, Zabini. Get up there and give us a bit of fun."

The look Blaise was giving Pansy hovered between disbelief and dislike. With a snotty harrumph, she marched up the stairs to the duelling platform as Jenna trailed along with a wicked grin on her face.

Jenna's bow reminded Harry of Gilderoy Lockhart's during the one meeting of the Hogwarts Duelling Club. She waved her arms extravagantly and sank low, kicking one foot out to hold her balance. Blaise, by comparison, seemed as irritated as Professor Snape had been in that duel. She curtseyed almost defiantly, never taking her eyes off Jenna.

Pansy sat straighter in her chair. She held Draco's hand almost absently as she focused on the duelling stage and the witches about to duel. A faint smirk creased her red-painted lips.

"_En garde!_" Goyle called out in a saucy French accent.

"_Os comme gele!_" Very appropriately, Blaise cast the Jelly-Legs Jinx. The jet of purple light missed the mark, sailing over Jenna's shoulder and striking the wall.

Jenna brought her own wand into position and shouted, "_Petrificus totalis!_" The blast of white light would have struck Blaise full in the face if she hadn't ducked out of the way.

"_Obstringere!_" Thin cords of rope appeared from nowhere to ensnare Jenna, but she burned them to ashes with a fire spell as Blaise cast a shield.

"_Confundus!_" Yellow light lashed out and deflected off the shield.

"_Rictusempra!_"

"_Furunculus!_" That was the hex that gave boils. Pansy giggled as the red light struck Blaise, unable to move in time. Blaise shouted in pain as her hand, caught as she tried to dodge, exploded with swollen eruptions.

"You want to play that way?" Blaise yelled at Jenna. "Fine! _Locomotor mortis!_"

The yellow light of the Leg-Locker Curse flew across the stage, dead on target. Jenna hastily tried to cast a shield, but the spell caught her directly in the chest. She launched into the air and crashed into the wall with a resounding smash. Blaise ran down the length of the stage and stood triumphantly with her fists on her hips.

"Had enough?" she called down smugly.

Jenna, in a pile at the foot of the wall, raised her wand. Harry couldn't hear the spell she cast, but the edge of the stage suddenly gave way, dumping Blaise onto the floor. Jenna didn't bother getting up, but cast "_Expelliarmus!_" and sent Blaise's wand skittering along the polished hardwood floor.

"Jenna wins!" Pansy declared in a ceremonial voice.

Blaise staggered to her feet. "That's fighting dirty," she complained.

"All's fair in love and war," Pansy said in answer. "She held on to her wand and you didn't. It's that simple."

Blaise scowled and went to retrieve her wand. Tucking it away, she flounced into a chair and stuck her nose in a book. Her cheeks were flushed, and her shoulders rose and fell with every deep breath she took.

"Jenna?" Harry called. "Are you okay?"

She sat up, brushed her blonde hair out of her face, and managed a wobbly smile at them. She stood on shaky legs and walked over slowly. She sat gingerly in the plush chair, relief plain on her face as she relaxed.

"Just a few bumps and bruises," she said lightly. "Nothing a cold glass of tea wouldn't fix."

"It is tea time," Draco noted.

"Then summon the elves. We'll take tea here, because I'm not getting out of this chair for at least a week."

Jenna was in cheerful spirits, flush from her victory over Blaise. She made more and more outrageous sallies, and finally Blaise announced that she had to go home. Tim offered to escort her down to the drawing room and didn't come back, but the seven children had a splendid time anyway.

to be continued...


	3. Lessons

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Three - Lessons**

The second floor took two full days of hard work to clean completely. Tim skipped out on both, and only Pansy, Draco, and Jenna came on the second. Harry and Sirius stayed up late, convincing each other that all they had to do was one little bit more and they could call it a night. Their efforts paid off, and they went to sleep with a supreme sense of satisfaction.

On the third floor, they discovered a ghoul living in the other bathroom. Unlike most ghouls, this one was a bloodthirsty howler, and Sirius decreed that it would have to go. He and Remus contained it for eventual delivery to the Ghoul Task Force. Later, Harry, Draco, Pansy, and Jenna tackled the lavish bedrooms with the help of the elves.

At last there was only the master bedroom and bath, and Sirius, Remus, Harry, and Kreacher did the deed in a long Saturday. When the last sack of rubbish had been levitated out of the room, the wizards looked at each other in satisfaction and smiled.

"Well, that's that," Harry said happily. "Time for Animagus lessons."

Sirius and Remus both laughed at him. "No, he's not eager," Remus chuckled.

"We were pretty impatient ourselves, as I recall," Sirius grinned. "Led to lots of bad situations. But it's late, Harry. Tomorrow is Sunday, so let's have a day of rest, and Monday after breakfast, we'll have your first lesson."

_Finally!_ Harry didn't know if he could stand to wait that long, but Sirius was the instructor. It wouldn't do to push too hard. So he nodded in agreement.

"Okay," he said.

Sunday tested the limits of Harry's patience. He raided the library, looking for advanced transfiguration books, and then he had to find books to explain what the advanced books said. He took pages of complicated notes, not sure about half the things he was dutifully copying. There wasn't a single guide book, _How to Become an Animagus_, but studying the most complex Transfiguration available would surely help. Though it would probably help more if it didn't read like a foreign language.

When he could bear it no longer, he channelled his nervous energy into lifting weights. Harry was pleased to see that his arms were getting bigger. He took a break every so often to flex in front of the mirror. Growing up with the Muggles, he'd never imagined that one day he might be strong. It was an amazing feeling.

Kreacher made a large breakfast on Monday morning, and Sirius took his own sweet time about eating it. Harry gobbled down two large helpings of eggs, sausage, bacon, and oatmeal and sat waiting impatiently for Sirius to finish. He drank glass after glass of orange juice just to keep his mouth busy so he wouldn't nag.

Sirius finally pushed his plate back, and Harry leapt to his feet in anticipation. Sirius chuckled good-naturedly and stood up as well.

"Ready?"

"Am I ever!"

Harry followed Sirius to the duelling room on the second floor. Sirius kicked off his shoes and began to perform stretching exercises. Harry did likewise.

"It's good that you've been lifting weights," Sirius said approvingly. "If you weren't, I'd have you start. The Animagus transformation is physically demanding, and the better condition you're in, the easier it will be for you. Once you've mastered it, you can change even in a weakened state. If not, I'd still be in Azkaban. Let's not think about that."

"Let's."

"Now, let's discuss your accidental magic. What sorts of tricks did you do while growing up? Those sorts of things give us insight into the feats of magic a wizard will eventually be able to perform."

"I was running from Dudley's gang once and wound up on a roof."

Sirius' grin was manic. "That's excellent! That shows you've got natural Apparition talent. What else? Did you ever change your body in any way?"

"Yes. You know how my hair looks like my dad's?"

"Of course."

"It's not by choice. It just stays this way all the time. Whenever I'd go for a haircut, it would instantly grow back."

"That's exactly what I mean," Sirius crowed. "Bodily change is a strong indicator of Transfiguration talent. Okay, here's the plan. We're going to concentrate on growing your hair. When you can make it longer with just a thought, we'll move on to other body parts. I want you to think about your scalp."

"My scalp?"

"Yes. Imagine thousands and thousands of tiny dots where your hair is coming out and envision your hair getting longer. Then focus your will and do it."

Talk about vague instructions. Nevertheless, Harry closed his eyes and tried to imagine the roots of his hair. He'd seen several Muggle commercials for baldness cures, so he knew what to think about.

"Now think about your hair growing, getting longer. It's flowing out of your head a hundred times faster than normal. Then tap into your magic, just like casting a spell."

Harry did that, and a sudden tickle ran across his scalp. It felt almost like static. He was so surprised, he lost focus. He tried again, and the same tickle came back. This time he held onto it and imagined hair reaching down to his shoulders. The tingle became stronger, and with a sudden cry of surprise, suddenly there was hair covering his eyes.

"Well done, Harry!" Sirius shouted. "That's how you do it!"

Harry pushed his new hair aside and grinned at his godfather without saying a word.

Harry didn't recognize the owl that delivered the letter. It was a huge snowy owl with very strong talons that left gouges in the back of the chair it perched on. Harry immediately scooped up some bacon and held it out in offering. The owl sprang into the air, soared across the table, snatched up the bacon, and dropped the envelope in Harry's lap as it flapped its wings and made for the open window.

He didn't recognize the handwriting on the letter either. Nobody he knew dotted their i's with tiny circles or made their a's with fancy arches. If was definitely from a girl, though. The ink was purple.

__

Dear Harry,

So how's your summer going? I've been very busy doing nothing much. Aunt Amelia's at work all day, so I'm largely left to my own devices. There's only so much one can work on holiday assignments before needing some fresh air. We're not Ravenclaws, after all. Mostly Hannah and I just hang out by her pool and listen to the wireless. She said to invite you over if you wanted. I think she wants to ask you if you know the Three Weird Sisters.

So are you going to the World Cup? Aunt Amelia got tickets because she's Head of Magical Law Enforcement. She's going to be working, though, so I don't have anyone to go with. Hannah's parents are taking her to Aruba that week. Could I trade tickets for company?

I hope you're enjoying living with your godfather. Write back soon!

Sincerely,

Susan  
Bones

in case you didn't know

Harry swore softly at himself. With all of his time being taken up with Animagus lessons with Sirius, he had completely forgotten to make inquiries at the Department of Magical Games and Sports about tickets to the World Cup. Then he perked up with a cheerful thought; now he didn't have to play on his fame! He could spring the surprise on Sirius, too.

"Hey Sirius, I guess you were right."

"Of course I was. What was I right about?"

"When you picked me up at the train platform, you said Susan Bones fancied me. She just sent me a letter. She and Hannah Abbot have been lounging around the pool all summer just listening to the wireless."

"Sounds delightful."

"And Susan says that Hannah said to invite me over."

"Well, that's awfully nice of her," Sirius judged. "Do you want to go?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "I don't really know her. She's in Hufflepuff. We share History of Magic, and she's in Arithmancy too."

"Nice girl?"

"I guess."

"Well, why not use this as a chance to get to know her?" posed Sirius in a very reasonable tone. "And if you don't like her, maybe her friend Hannah is more your type. Harry and Hannah has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Sirius!" Harry's ears were burning now.

His godfather laughed merrily. "So two Hufflepuff girls are inviting you to go swimming with them. You dog, Harry."

"Sirius! Come on, knock it off," Harry protested. "I'm just going to make friends. It's not like that."

"Is it?" Sirius asked sceptically. "Who else did she invite?"

"Well, she didn't say."

Sirius grinned knowingly. "One or both of them is going to try to snog you."

"How do you know?"

"Because, Harry, I know girls. They've got this all planned out. Tomorrow is supposed to be a very nice day, so they'll be tanning in the sun. They'll be putting suntan lotion on and will need help getting their backs. It's a scenario straight out of one of those magazines for young witches."

"I'm being set up?" Harry asked incredulously. "By Hufflepuffs?"

"Not by Hufflepuffs, Harry. By girls. It's nothing to do with house at all."

"So what do I do?" he asked helplessly.

"You go along with it!" Sirius said with delight. "You have fun! You swap a few kisses and share a few giggles and enjoy yourself. It's quite the time, let me tell you."

"I've kissed a girl before."

"So you have. And was it so awful you don't want to do it again? Because the only other choice is to start looking at your mates a whole new way."

"It's not that it was bad, but I don't know if I want to date Blaise."

"You're young, Harry. Don't make up your mind yet. There's plenty of time to find out who the right girl is."

That made Harry feel better. It was true. He didn't need to put any pressure on himself to find his one true love. He and Blaise didn't have to decide right now if they were going to spend the next ninety or so years (for magic folk lived longer than Muggles) together. That was way too big a decision for a thirteen-year-old to make. It was nearly too big for a thirteen-year-old to even understand. All things would happen in due time. In the meanwhile, he would make friends with two Hufflepuffs. After breakfast, he went to his room, pulled out a sheet of parchment, and wrote a reply as neatly as his excitement would allow.

He sent off Regal with the letter and plugged a Wand Smasher music crystal into the wireless before stretching out on his bed with the journal he'd started to keep of his progress at becoming an Animagus. He recorded things that had helped, things that hadn't worked, and the best way to get rid of the aches and pains that invariably accompanied the vicissitude he was subjecting his body to. It would be worth it, though.

__

Dear Susan,

It would be really great to go to the World Cup with you. I didn't get tickets, and I really wasn't looking forward to asking for favours at Magical Games and Sports. Do you have two? I've got to bring Sirius, too.

I've been really busy. Sirius inherited his family manor, but the place had been neglected for years. We've been fixing it up and making it a home. I can't remember when I've enjoyed myself so much.

You can tell Hannah that I don't know the Three Weird Sisters, but if she wants, I can introduce her to Wand Smasher. Hanging out by a pool sounds delightful. When?

Harry

P.S.: What did you think of Binns' assignment? I knocked it off in a night, myself.

__

Dear Harry,

I've got three extra tickets, so you're more than welcome to bring Sirius along. I'm glad you're getting along well with him.

Hannah says she would love to meet Wand Smasher. When are they playing next? Is it an all ages concert? Lots of places won't let in fourteen year olds. We can discuss it all, say tomorrow? Her house is 42 Iceberg Chalice. We usually meet right after breakfast. See you there!

Susan

P.S.: I may be a hard-working Hufflepuff, but I am not a Ravenclaw geek nor a Slytherin overachiever. I think I _looked_ at my assignments. I haven't touched them and probably won't until August.

Harry had just finished reading when a different owl delivered a letter. It flew off before Harry could identify it, but he recognized the handwriting: Blaise.

A lump formed in his throat then. It was part guilt at not returning what he plainly knew were Blaise's feelings and part anxiousness at what she might have written. With trepidation, Harry unfolded the parchment.

__

Dear Harry,

How are you? I was wondering if you would like to come over tomorrow. We could go koi fishing. It's supposed to be good luck if you catch one.

Write me back soon!

Always,

Blaise

Girls! Why did they have to be so complicated?

Harry folded the parchment back up and shoved it into a drawer of his desk. He would write back to Blaise later, but now it was time to meet the lads for their workout. It wasn't smart to lift by yourself, so Harry got together with Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle several days a week for the sole purposes of building up muscles. Already he had turned up the density of the wizard weights by two points. He picked up his bag, said goodbye to Sirius, and headed through the Floo to Malfoy Manor.

The topic of discussion during these sessions invariably came back to girls. Draco was always parroting advice he'd gotten from his older brother, Elan, about how to act around them. It wasn't important to actually _be_ cool, just to _appear_ cool, and girls were impressed by the silliest things.

Draco's hair had gotten longer. He claimed girls liked that. He'd started combing it off to one side, too. Harry knew he'd always gone to an effort to make himself neat and tidy, to the point of carrying a comb in his pocket at all time. It had gotten much worse. Now he would spend ridiculous lengths of time studying himself in the mirror. The Encouraging Spell had finally given up on him and would only speak to the other lads.

Goyle eventually stopped looking like a zombie and started talking again. He grew another two inches practically overnight. Crabbe didn't gain so much height, but he stood a bit stockier. Both continued to be eating machines.

Tim still considered lifting weights to be vulgar, and the lads' repeated invitations to join them went unanswered. To speak of it, Tim hadn't visited that often. He'd only pitched in with the cleaning of 12 Grimmauld Place for a couple of days. Even when he did grace them all with his presence, he said little, and he got shirty with anyone who pressed him. Draco said that Elan had attributed the moodiness to the onset of puberty and to pay Tim no mind. So Tim missed out on the very interesting conversations that went on between the boys.

"So I've had a letter from Blaise," Harry said. "She invited me over to her house tomorrow to go koi fishing."

"I thought you two broke up?" Draco asked.

"We did."

"That sounds an awful lot like a date."

"I know. What do I do?" Harry asked helplessly. "She's my friend, and I like her a lot, but I don't want to date her."

"You need a girlfriend," Draco said sagely. "If Blaise sees you with another girl, she'll stop trying to get you."

"Will that work?"

"Sure it will." Draco sounded supremely confident.

"Well, I'll see what I can do in that regard. I'm going swimming with Bones and Abbott from Hufflepuff."

"Well done, Harry," Draco congratulated him. "Which one do you think you'll go for?"

"I'll decide that after I see them in swimsuits. I'm just going to make friends."

"If you insist."

"Won't Blaise seeing Harry talking to other girls make her try harder?" Crabbe asked.

Harry hadn't thought of that. "Blaise is pretty competitive," he said, putting down his weights to wipe his face with a towel. "Do you think she'd see it as a contest?"

"She's a Slytherin," Draco said, as if it were obvious.

Harry groaned. "So if I don't have a girlfriend, Blaise tries to get me, and if I do, she tries harder? I can't win!"

"Girls are strange like that, Harry," Draco replied with a knowing sort of air.

"I'm glad you're taking such enjoyment from this," Harry groused.

"So honestly, which one? Bones or Abbott? Bones is taller, I think, but Abbott is probably curvier."

"Like you'd know. Yeah, they're both pretty, but the Patil twins are gorgeous."

"They've got good skin, sure," Draco replied, "but Pansy's eyes sparkle more."

"Okay, granted. Best hair?"

"Pansy."

"Best lips," Goyle said.

"Pansy."

"Best nose?"

"Pansy."

"You've said Pansy to everything," Harry groaned with exasperation. "And come on, Pansy's got quite a honker."

"I think Pansy's the best. Why would I, Draco Malfoy, date any girl with less than the best?"

"You, Draco Malfoy, are unimaginative," Crabbe interjected. "Best lips in fourth year is definitely Lavender Brown."

"You, Crabbe, are blind," Goyle grunted. "Don't let the make-up fool you. Now Mandy Brocklehurst, she's got nice lips, nice eyes, nice hair, and a nice voice."

"Sounds like you like her, Goyle," Draco drawled. "She's a pureblood. Pretty enough for a snog. Write her a letter or something."

"And say what?"

"Ask her how her summer's going."

"And then?"

"Ask if she's gone travelling. Think up exciting things to do and ask her if she's done them."

"Koi fishing? Isn't that what Blaise wanted to do, Harry?"

"If you regard that as fun, then certainly." Draco put down his weights and took a drink of water.

"But all we've done is help clean Grimmauld Place and work out all summer."

"We've listened to plenty of music," Harry said. "You can tell her about that."

"This Wand Smasher is fantastic stuff," Crabbe piped up. "I really get into another world when I'm lifting."

"So it's not just me?" Goyle asked.

"Evidently not, fathead," Draco grunted. He stretched out his arm, trying to ease the soreness.

"You're the fathead," Goyle shot back. "I hear you have to use magic to get through doors now?"

"Untrue!"

__

Dear Blaise,

Thanks for inviting me over, but I'm very busy doing things with Sirius. There's so much to talk about! I never imagined my dad was such a mischief-maker. But now I've got some great ideas for things to do against Gryffindors.

Gotta run! We're making popcorn!

Harry

Harry would be the first to admit he didn't understand girls. They were complicated beyond his ken at times, for reasons only God knew. But if there was one thing he did know, it was that he shouldn't tell Blaise that he couldn't go koi fishing with her because he was going swimming with two blonde Hufflepuff girls. It was really none of her business, after all, and his letter contained no factual errors. It was simply misleading.

Shortly before nine the next morning, Harry collected his bag, tossed a pinch of Floo powder in the fireplace, and went spinning through the Network to 42 Iceberg Chalice. He landed heavily on his feet in front of a very nice stone fireplace. A note was hovering in the air, addressed to him, with directions out to the pool.

The girls were lounging at poolside, listening to a music crystal via the wireless. The sun was just high enough in the sky to start casting its warming rays into the clear water. A pitcher of lemonade and three glasses of ice cubes rested on a wrought-iron, glass-top table.

Harry could not have been more nervous as he sauntered casually out the sliding glass door and onto the concrete patio. He wished fiercely that he had one of the lads along for support, but they hadn't been invited. He kept right on walking, even when he saw blonde hair and tan skin.

Susan was wearing her strawberry-blonde hair down, with locks of it spilling over her shoulders. Harry had never seen her without the tight plait she always wore at school. She was wearing a bright yellow one-piece with a pattern of black stars scattered across the chest. Those stars jutted out prominently, and Harry wished he'd thought to charm his glasses to shades. Wow, she was pretty.

Hannah's black one-piece with yellow stars was equally stare-inducing. She was shorter than Susan, though, so her attributes seemed greater. Draco's prediction that she was the curvier of the pair was proven true. Harry noticed she had dimples on her knees. Her pale blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail, and it bobbed and danced as she talked.

Their yellow and black motif made Harry grin. Those were Hufflepuff's colours. Now he didn't feel so silly about his green and silver swim trunks.

"Hi, Harry," they said together with a wave.

"Hi." He walked over and sat down in one of the pool chairs, hunching forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

For no reason, the two girls giggled. "Very much," Susan replied.

"Glad you could make it."

"Thanks for inviting me," Harry said politely. "Is that the latest from Wand Smasher?"

"Yes. Susan tells me that you know them," Hannah said inquisitively. "I heard those stories going around school last year, but I didn't know how much truth there was to them."

"Tim, Millie, and I went to see a show last summer. The lead singer saw my scar and started calling me their biggest fan and dedicated a song to me. At intermission, I went over to say hello. Nothing more to it."

"Wow," Hannah exclaimed. "That's so galactic."

"Then at Christmas I went to see them again. I got to hang out backstage with them. One of the guitar players used to be in Slytherin, you know."

"I didn't know that," Susan said.

"I'd love to get their autographs and take pictures," Hannah said wistfully. "Edgar is so handsome."

"It could happen," Harry said invitingly. "What's in it for me?"

"Are you kidding?" Hannah asked. "Of course not. You're a Slytherin. You don't have a sense of humour."

"Our sense of humour is just refined, that's all," Harry said, sticking up for his house. "You asked me for a favour. What's it worth to you?"

"I'd offer to do your History homework, but you do much better than me," said Hannah. "I give up."

"Give up?" Susan interjected. "Hufflepuffs never give up!"

"In that case I concede."

"Hannah!"

"What?"

Susan shook her head. "You're impossible."

"I try. Harry, take your robes off and stay awhile." Then both girls started giggling together.

Harry did his best not to read into that remark. He shrugged out of his robes (for he'd worn his swim trunks underneath) and stretched out in a chair, facing the girls.

"So, Harry," Susan said, "How is life at Grimmauld Place?"

Harry grinned. "Now that it's clean, it's quite nice. It's gigantic; I mean _lots_ of rooms. My room is really big. I don't know if I'll ever have enough stuff to fill it up."

"Stuff has a way of expanding to fit the size of its space," Susan replied. "And then it just keeps right on growing. I can never manage to get all my stuff packed into my school trunk at the end of the year."

"Mine barely fit," Harry said.

"Bah!" Hannah said crossly. "If I hadn't asked Diggory to show me a Shrinking Charm, I'd have missed the Express."

"Cedric Diggory?"

Hannah seemed a bit surprised that Harry knew the first name of a Hufflepuff soon-to-be sixth year student, but then understanding blossomed on her face. "Ah, right, you would know him from Quidditch." Diggory was the Seeker on Hufflepuff's house Quidditch team, and he and Harry had clashed on several occasions.

"He's not bad," Harry said dismissively.

"He's a bit more than 'not bad', Potter," Hannah replied, sounding a tad offended. "I heard him telling Roberto Aronstein that he's been approached by people from Puddlemere. They want him to come to training camp after he finishes Hogwarts. He caught their eye after the match a couple of years ago when he made that amazing Wronski Feint. He's done some very nice flying since then, and they've been watching him."

Harry's smile faded a bit. That feint had been pulled on Harry, and his Nimbus 2000 had been heavily damaged by his near-impact with the ground. He wondered if he should point out the fact to the gossipy girl, but before he could open his mouth, Susan elbowed her friend in the side.

"OW!"

"Brainless wonder! In your vast sum of who said what to who and when, did anyone remind you that Cedric did that to _Harry_? Manners, girl!" Susan threw Harry an apologetic look.

Hannah, to her credit, had the grace to blush. "Oh, right. Sorry. Anyway, while they're not ready to sign Cedric up right now, they think he's got definite potential."

"Okay, so he's pretty good," Harry admitted. "I know that. I've flown against him. I've also beaten him to the Snitch twice. After that Feint, by the way. Might I add that Slytherin has held the Quidditch Cup for ten years now?" He might not have rubbed Hannah's nose in it so thoroughly had she not brought up the Slytherin-Hufflepuff match from second year.

Hannah blushed even more. "If _they're_ being talked to, can you imagine who's looking at you? I never said you weren't completely galactic as a Seeker, Harry, just that Cedric is, well-"

"Not bad," Harry supplied with a wink.

She giggled. "Comparatively, yes. And he's not the only one. Lavender Brown told me that she heard Katie Bell talking about how their captain, Wood, has too."

Harry had read in the sport pages that Puddlemere United had been sold to a new owner who promised to invest the money to attract the talent the team needed to get back on top. Evidently, that meant farming the crop of Quidditch players at Hogwarts to find the up-and-comers.

"Montrose will still show them how to fly," Harry replied. "Ellison is just plain phenomenal."

Hannah giggled. "I've got a poster of Ellison hanging over my bed at school. He's so cute, with those pretty eyes. I could just melt away."

Harry didn't know why he could possibly have needed to know that.

"Don't mind her, Harry," Susan said with a wave of her hand. "She's just gone boy-crazy."

"Have not!"

"Have too!"

"Have not! _You_ on the other hand!"

"You mention that, and I'll do you for treason when I become a prefect."

"You want to be a prefect, Susan?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. It looks really good when you go for certain positions. It more or less guarantees that you can get in at mid-level in the Ministry. I'd love to be Head Girl, too. That would really help me get into Magical Law Enforcement. I know Aunt Amelia will put in a good word for me, but I'd rather earn my place."

Blaise would probably have something to say about that. She was very studious, and Harry knew she secretly dreamed of being Head Girl one day. But grades weren't everything that was considered, which meant that any seventh year from any house could aspire to the highest post. Harry mentally kicked himself. _Stop thinking about Blaise!_

"I worry about Patil in Ravenclaw," Susan continued. "She's amazingly bookish. I've really got to put my nose to the grindstone next year and pull my marks up."

"How's that homework coming, Susan?" Harry asked brightly.

"Meh," she dismissed, waving her hand again. "It's too nice out to do homework."

The song stopped suddenly. They'd reached the end of the album. Hannah reached over and swapped music crystals. A single violin split the morning air with a piercing call, a desperate, pleading cascade of notes that ached with awful sadness.

Harry was captured instantly by the story, whatever it was going to be. When a woman's voice began to sing about love, destiny, blood, prejudice, and more love, Harry's breath was taken away by the poignant melancholy of the tale.

"Who's this?" Harry asked in a whisper as the violins faded away.

"Lyranna Erato. I love that song," Hannah replied. "It reminds me of my parents. Mum's Muggleborn, and Dad's clan is pureblood. There were only a few people who said anything when they got married, but he definitely went against the grain."

"She was a witch," Harry replied with a shrug. "My Mum was Muggleborn, too."

"Really?" the two girls asked at the same time.

"Yeah." Harry felt a swell of pride as he recited, "Lily Evans, Muggleborn, Prefect, Head Girl. She didn't play Quidditch, but nobody's perfect."

"So you're not pureblood," Hannah said.

Harry bristled a bit. "Not strictly, no."

"I thought you _had_ to be pureblood to be in Slytherin."

"Blood matters," Harry replied. "But it's not everything."

"It is to some," Susan said. "I'm glad to see you've got a bit of sense about you."

Harry definitely didn't care for the insinuations against Slytherin. He knew some of his friends, Tim in particular, did get a bit obsessed about blood on occasion, but most Slytherins weren't foaming at the mouth with rabid denunciations of Muggleborns. Muggles, yes, but Muggleborns not so much.

"We're not that bad. It's just that the ones who have certain prejudices are the most vocal."

"They certainly are that," Susan agreed.

"So, have either of you got any relatives starting Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked to change the subject. The Slytherins regularly discussed their family during the Sorting Ceremony.

"My cousin Christine is so excited," Hannah answered. "She's my dad's brother's youngest daughter."

"Think she'll go to Hufflepuff with us?" Susan wondered.

"Probably. You know my whole family has always been Hufflepuff."

"Harry doesn't."

"Well he does now," Hannah said, flipping her hair back over her left shoulder. "Anyway, I've been horribly rude." She picked up the pitcher of lemonade and poured three glasses. She picked up one and handed it to Harry. Her fingers were very soft, and they lingered on Harry's hand for just a second as she gave him the drink.

"Thank you," Harry said politely. He took a tentative sip and was pleased to find the lemonade slightly tart. He'd had lemonade once, years ago, when Dudley had taken it into his head to make himself some. Unfortunately he'd dumped so much sugar into the mix that even he hadn't been able to drink it. He'd not thrown it away though. Harry could still remember the feeling of his cousin's arm around his throat as he'd held Harry from behind and poured the syrupy sludge down Harry's throat. "It's good."

"Made it myself," Hannah declared with a satisfied tone.

"Five points to Hufflepuff," Susan giggled.

"And here's five more."

Hannah stood up and made long strides down the length of the pool to the diving board. She climbed up the ladder and stood for a moment at the top. She took a deep breath. With a hop, a skip, and a bounce, Hannah launched herself into the air!

She twirled and rotated so many times on so many axes that Harry couldn't believe it when Hannah unfolded her body and entered the water hands first with only a bit of a splash. She swam immediately to the surface and went for the ladder.

"Bravo!" Susan called, clapping her hands. "Applaud, Harry."

Harry clapped too, shouting, "Ten!"

Hannah walked back over, shaking water out of her ear. "Thank you. You're too kind."

"I'd say ten points, not five," Susan declared with a nod.

"Me too," Harry said admiringly. "That was great."

"Glad you think so. Now it's your turn."

Harry obligingly took a turn at the diving board and his efforts weren't laughed at _too_ badly by the girls. He managed to not do a belly-flop and counted it as success. Susan was a sight better, though nowhere near as tricky as Hannah.

The sun got higher in the sky, and they played in the water for hours. Harry snuck a few peeks at bums and bosoms when he could, and after lunch, he charmed his glasses to shades while they lay out under the sun to tan. Sirius' prediction didn't come true, for Hannah and Susan applied lotion to each other's backs. Harry was quite the sight as he tried to get himself, and the girls giggled at him as they firmly took the bottle away from him and helped.

When tea time came along, so did a cloud bank, and the sun was hidden. The day didn't seem nearly so nice then, for a cool wind picked up, and Harry found himself saying his goodbyes. He didn't want to overstay his welcome. He'd come to go swimming, and they weren't swimming any more.

As he was about the enter the Floo, Harry extended them both an invitation to his birthday party. Susan and Hannah seemed like quite decent girls to know. He'd just have to make sure Tim kept his mouth shut if he found out about Hannah's blood.

They accepted with some surprise. Evidently Hufflepuffs and Slytherins didn't run in the same circles, even outside of Hogwarts. Well, Harry intended to put a stop to that. It was hard not to like Hannah, whose mother had been Muggleborn just like Harry's. She was friendly, pretty, and moderately intelligent. Susan was the more sober of the pair, though not by much, and Harry wondered why he had never made friends with her before.

As soon as he got home, Harry went looking for Sirius. He found his godfather on the second floor in a spare room. He'd mentioned only that morning that he'd like to invite Draco and the others over to lift weights, but they didn't have a space. In the few hours since Harry had been gone, Sirius had converted one of the spare rooms for which they had no designated purpose into a complete weight room.

"It's a total rush job," Sirius apologized, "but it ought to do. Now I can start getting back into shape myself."

Harry didn't know what to say. He was absolutely overwhelmed by this gesture on Sirius' part. Sirius wasn't even making a joke out of things by claiming it was his birthday present.

"Do you like it?" Sirius asked anxiously.

"I do!" Harry said quickly. "It's great. Galactic, as they say in Hufflepuff."

"Yes! You must tell me all about it."

"Well, first of all you were wrong. Neither one of them tried to snog me. They didn't ask me to help with suntan lotion either."

"I'm thunderstruck."

"But they did giggle a lot," Harry conceded. "We talked about music. Hannah showed off at diving. Susan whipped us both at laps."

"You mean you didn't let her win just to be nice?"

"Let nothing. My arms are still sore from trying to beat her at least once."

Sirius wordlessly passed Harry a dumbbell. Harry couldn't help but smile.

to be continued...


	4. The Best Birthday Ever

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Four - The Best Birthday Ever**

Harry invited a lot of people to his birthday party. There were all his friends in Slytherin, of course. Then you counted the Ravenclaw Trio that sometimes hung out with them. Harry had bridged the divide to Hufflepuff by inviting Susan and Hannah. There were two ex-Gryffindors as well. Harry had extended an invitation to Percy Weasley and his little sister Ginny. He'd even gone so far as to tell Padma Patil to invite her Gryffindor twin sister Parvati and had warned Pansy to be on her best behaviour.

As far as parents and families, he'd invited the Malfoys, the Parkinsons, the Moons, and the Bulstrodes. Tim's father had been included in that worthy's invitation, but the old wizard had declined. Harry didn't invite Blaise's family, because he had no desire to see Elan Malfoy and Jamie Zabini in close quarters again. The last time, Jamie had tried to hex Elan, and he'd ended up breaking her hand in self-defence.

Sirius and Remus were throwing the party. Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to say Padfoot and Moony were throwing it, because their ideas were completely insane. Harry firmly rejected the notion of a themed party (of a Muggle movie, no less!), hiring a platoon of clowns, and flooding the ground floor for a pool party.

Harry just wanted things simple. He wanted there to be a big selection of food. He only wanted to be in the company of all his friends; they meant everything to him. Of course everyone had accepted their invitations.

Kreacher had gone quite berserk in the kitchen. The long dining room table was covered with all of Harry's favourites. He ate enough to let his belt out. Nobody sat, but stood around with plates in hand while they talked and ate.

It was odd to see the mixing of the crowd. Most of his friends' parents congregated together. The younger children did a bit of running around. Percy and Elan were having an animated conversation off to the side. Harry's friends spread out, never more than four to a group. Pansy and Parvati were keeping their distance from each other out of respect for Harry's party.

Harry, the guest of honour, was obliged to exchange pleasantries with the adults. It was awfully boring hearing them talk about compound interest and the current spike in the price of dragon blood. He needed a distraction, so he latched on to Remus, who had spent most of the party chatting with Mandy Brocklehurst and the Patil twins.

"Remus, the place looks outstanding. You two outdid yourselves." Streamers dangled from every fixture. Balloons of every colour formed pictures of Harry on every wall. There was even a life-sized balloon sculpture of Harry standing at the front of the room.

"Thank you, Harry."

"Quite the party, Harry," Elan complimented as they approached.

"Thanks. Sirius and Remus did most of the decorating."

"It's quite ace."

Sirius walked by just then, so Harry grabbed his arm. "Hear that, Sirius? Elan officially thinks this party is ace."

Harry's godfather bowed in acknowledgement. "Glad you think so, Elan. I love it, because my mother would have hated it. Tell me, have you seen _your_ mother around?"

"I think she's upstairs. She was going to look at the art room."

"Thank you. Harry, excuse me, please."

As Harry watched Sirius make his way through the crowd of people, he suddenly had a sneaking suspicion. Excusing himself from Elan and Percy, who were quizzing Remus about his teaching experience at Hogwarts, he set down his plate and ducked out of the dining room to follow Sirius upstairs. Sirius went immediately to the art room and closed the door behind him. Harry crept closer to listen at the keyhole.

"Hello, Narcissa."

"You've done absolute wonders with the place, cousin," came her voice into Harry's ear.

"Kreacher's quite turned 'round now that he thinks I've changed my spots. It's fair disgusting, if I may be so blunt."

"Do you despise me so much, cousin? I thought we had at least a few happy times as children."

"It's not you, Cissa. It's the path you chose, and the master you served. I won't _let_ him take Harry, do you understand me? It Will Not Happen. He took James and Lily from me. He took Peter. He's tried to get Harry, and only by Merlin's luck has he failed. I must be vigilant against the Darkness."

"We're not plotting to serve Harry up to You-Know-Who on a silver platter."

"Really?" Sirius drawled, sarcasm dripping off the word like rain. "So if Voldemort came back tomorrow - stop flinching - you'd protect Harry from him, would you?"

"Yes."

"You'd be killed."

"We know."

"And still you would defy him?"

"I know you would not believe Lucius if he drank a whole vial of Veritaserum, but we lived in fear. The Dark Lord was not shy about turning his wrath on his followers. I have witnessed Lucius writhing in remembered pain. The Dark Lord went mad. The sort of sport he enjoyed was stomach-turning. His hate perverted him. We are too gently bred for such a degree of turpitude."

"You and your lot were plenty willing to listen when Voldemort was preaching that hatred about Muggleborns and Muggles."

"We hate Muggles with good reason, Sirius! Muggle fear of magic has almost wiped us out in ages past! What they do not understand they hate, and what they hate they fear, and what they fear they destroy. We are more than they, and they hate us for it.

"But Muggleborns?" she continued. "They are only children. I cannot hate innocent children, Sirius. I am a mother; I have held children, and I cannot hate any of them. Even a Muggle child I would not hate, only hate what it would grow up to become. A Muggleborn child is magical. They are more and are hated for it. That's why Lucius fought to get the Magical Child Protection Act passed."

"I've heard about this law. I think it's a bad idea, Cissa," Sirius said plainly. "Who's going to want to adopt these children? You? The other pureblood families? You might be able to fool the public, but I know better. I grew up _tojour pur_, cousin. They'd sooner stab their wands through their ears than allow a 'dirty, filthy Mudblood' into their precious mansions."

"You forgot smelly."

"Narcissa, be serious!"

"But then who would you be?"

Sirius growled, and Harry imagined him grinding his teeth in frustration. "Why haven't you taken in one of these sweet, precious babes, then?" he asked scathingly. "I hear you talking, but I don't see you acting."

"The apparatus of the Magical Child Protection Agency is still being established. Under-Secretary Pettinato has been quite insistent on caution. Not one Muggleborn has yet been removed from the birth parents. We want to do this _right_, Sirius, and not allow anyone to slip through the cracks. But don't you worry; I've got all the Ministry wives involved. _We're_ keeping things running, thankfully."

Sirius was quiet for a minute. "So if you're so fond of Muggleborns, does that mean you're going to mend fences with Andromeda?"

Now Mrs. Malfoy was quiet. "There's a lot of history there, Sirius, as you know. There's been more since you've been away. I don't know if it will be possible."

"Are you going to try?"

"I will evaluate this Tonks on his own merits, if she will let me."

"I guess that's the best I can hope for at the moment."

Harry heard footsteps, and he scurried for the stairway. He nearly crashed into Draco as his best mate came out of the duelling room.

"There you are," Harry said with relief at finding some cover. "I've been looking everywhere."

"I knew where I was."

"I know where you'll be going if you keep that attitude up," Harry snorted.

"Isn't it about time we had some cake or something? What kind of birthday party doesn't have cake?"

"My first ten."

"Untrue, Harry," Sirius said from behind him. "There was cake at your first birthday, and I ate most of it. You, however, made quite a mess. I wonder if I can dredge up the pictures somehow."

Harry turned around to see Sirius smiling. Draco's mother stood next to him. His eyes were distant for a moment, but then he focused again.

"If it's cake you want, my boy, then cake you shall have. To the dining room!"

"Wait," Harry said. "I want to try something. _Gravitas penna!_"

Sirius could not have looked more delighted. He cast the Featherfall Charm on himself, and as Draco and Mrs. Malfoy looked on in puzzlement, they counted to three. Together they jumped over the railing into empty air.

Mrs. Malfoy screamed, and Draco shouted out in surprise. So naturally everyone turned to look as Harry and his godfather floated gently down the open shaft of the house.

"This is absolutely tops," Harry muttered, trying not to grin too hard.

"Bunch of stick-in-the-muds," Sirius whispered scornfully. "They need a bit of shaking up."

Harry grinned madly. As his feet touched the floor, there were several sighs of relief, and all of his friends burst into applause. Harry bowed rakishly, and suddenly everyone got very quiet.

Kreacher walked proudly through the door escorting a levitating sheet cake depicting a Quidditch match. He set it gently on the table.

"Happy birthday to you," Sirius sang loudly.

"Happy birthday to you," everyone joined in. "Happy birthday, dear Harry! Happy birthday to you!"

"And many more!" Crabbe and Goyle sang dramatically.

The regulation fourteen broomsticks flew around the miniature Quidditch scene. Each of those brooms also had a flame dancing at the top of the handle. His candles. Harry sucked in a deep breath, wished as hard as he could to be a quick study at Animagus lessons, and blew every one of the candles out.

Everyone applauded his lung capacity, and Kreacher began serving cake. When everyone was served, then he took away the empty dinner plates, humming happily to himself.

The house elf had snapped out of the crazed funk he'd been in when Harry had first seen him. His gruesome mutterings were gone. Now he praised Sirius obsequiously. It was "Good Master" this and "Gracious Master" that. Once, Kreacher had said "Handsome Master", and Harry had sprayed juice all over the table while Sirius looked on very not amused. He didn't reprimand Kreacher, though, perhaps because the old elf deserved to die happy rather than bitter and miserable.

After cake, Harry began opening his presents. He made sure to open the card first and to thank the giver for his or her thoughtfulness. A lot of the presents were candy-, scholarly-, or music-related. He enjoyed gifts like Sugar Quills, writing quills, and The Black Quills' latest album.

The best present undoubtedly came from Remus. The man had always been a bit broke, but the gift he gave was beyond any price. It was a simple photo album filled with moving pictures, and the subjects of those photos brought a tear to Harry's eye that he did his best to blink away. Every shot was of James and Lily, and also of the Marauders. Harry felt a surge of anger when he saw Wormtail's smiling face, but he let it go. That betrayal had been punished.

He turned the pages slowly, watching as his parents and their friends got older. Then there were pictures of James holding baby Harry up triumphantly, shouting out his joy to the world. There was Sirius, nervously holding Harry, wrapped up in his blankie, and a baby bottle. A picture of Lily snuggled with Harry, her face filled with indescribable joy, brought a tear to Harry's eye. Even more moving was James and Sirius hugging each other tightly, both crying their eyes out.

Harry shut the book before he could make a sentimental fool out of himself in front of everyone. "Thanks," he croaked to Remus.

Thankfully Sirius covered for him by handing Harry his last present. There was no card. The package was about a foot square and neatly wrapped. It was heavy. Harry shook it slightly, trying to guess what was inside. It rattled slightly.

With intense curiosity, Harry opened the box and pulled out a dark green helmet with silver tribal patterns painted on the bottom. Could it be?

"A motorbike helmet?" he said in a questioning voice, not daring to believe it. He looked up at Sirius, who was grinning madly.

"Yes. I used to drive one, you know. I loaned it out some years back, but I've been of a mind to go get it back."

Harry had loved Sirius' stories about how he and James had gone hell-raising in their youth on that motorbike. Now Sirius was as good as asking Harry to take his dad's place. Harry choked on more sudden emotion. What a present! What a godfather!

"And as well," Sirius added, reaching into the pocket of his robes. "Here." He handed Harry a plain envelope.

"The card?"

"Better."

Inside the card addressed "To my godson, Harry," were tickets to the Quidditch World Cup - the Minister's box.

Harry was speechless. There was nothing he could say. At _the_ event of the year, he would be watching from the best seats in the house. By Merlin's trusty broom, Harry didn't know how to react.

"Well, mate?" Draco asked.

Wordlessly, Harry showed the tickets. Draco did not even blink. "That is simply brill," he said.

"Sirius, how did you get an invitation to the Minister's box?" Harry needed to know.

"Minister Fudge was only too happy to let us watch the match from his box," Sirius said sardonically. "Once I explained the situation to him, that is."

For no reason at all, Lucius Malfoy let out a sharp laugh. "Cousin Sirius, I'm proud of you."

Sirius looked as though he'd swallowed a live toad.

Harry looked over at Susan. "Do you want in?"

Susan's eyes got very wide. "You mean sit with you? In the Minister's box?"

"Sure. Unless you want to sit in that crowd all by yourself then, yeah?"

"Thank you, Harry. I would be delighted."

Once the cake and ice cream and presents were over with, many people departed. Harry was fairly glad of that. It had been a long day, and he was tired. Still, that didn't keep Draco, Jenna, and Pansy from staring into the fire for a few minutes. Then because the chairs in the drawing room were so comfortable, it became a few minutes more.

"Thanks for coming, guys," Harry said. "It wouldn't have been the same without you."

"Wouldn't miss it, mate," Draco declared. "I love a good party. It was worth coming just to watch Blaise run from the room when you asked Bones out in front of everyone."

"I didn't do that!" Harry gasped aghast.

"You most certainly did, Harry," Jenna smugly informed him. "I saw the whole thing."

"But Susan offered to share her tickets for the Cup Final," Harry protested. "She's going by herself, and if Sirius and I don't sit with her, she'll be all alone."

"Doesn't matter. You invited Susan Bones, niece of the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, to the Minister's box. That's a date."

Harry groaned. "This is the last thing I need!"

"I told you, Harry, this is exactly how you get Blaise off your back."

"Draco, you're not helping."

"Blaise has become rather tiresome lately, hasn't she?" Pansy said speculatively.

"Absolutely," Jenna agreed. "Harry told her he wanted to just be friends, and she can't seem to deal with that."

"I just don't feel that way about her," Harry said.

"And that's fine," she said with a nod. "You're not obligated to date her just because she has a crush."

"I don't see why she's so bent out of shape," Pansy interjected. "It's not like you two were ever really going out. One date and a few kisses does not make a relationship. Not like me and Draco." She kissed her boyfriend lightly.

Jenna giggled. "That's so true, Pansy."

"I just want things to be the way they used to be," Harry complained. "Now I'm always wondering if she's going to try to kiss me. I can't be around her and just be normal."

"Never going to happen, Harry," Draco said sagely. "You can't go back."

The following day, Sirius asked Harry to join him in the drawing room after lunch. With a pinch of Floo powder, the flames of the fire turned green, and Sirius shouted, "Hogsmeade!"

They emerged from the Floo Network in the common room of the Three Broomsticks. Only Rosmerta was present, wiping down the bar from the lunch crowd. She nodded to them without speaking, even as she eyed Sirius cautiously.

Sirius led Harry outside and up the lane. He took a slow pace up to the gates of Hogwarts, which stood closed and imposing. The school crest hung imposingly on each iron-wrought door. Sirius tapped the lock with his wand.

"Sirius Black, here to see the Keeper of Keys and Grounds."

The lock unlatched on its own, and the gate creaked open. Sirius held it and motioned for Harry to precede him. Harry entered and turned to see Sirius carefully closing and latching the gate. He and Harry walked side by side up the path and across the grounds to Hagrid's hut.

Despite the heat of the summer, a fire burned inside. A curl of smoke drifted lazily upward in the still air. A steady, wooden thunk beat a regular rhythm that they followed around the hut.

Hagrid was wielding a great axe with both hands to chop firewood a cord at a time. In the big man's veins, it was whispered, ran a trace of giant's blood. He certainly was impressive, waving that axe around like it didn't weigh anything. Millie had told them stories of the creatures Professor Hagrid had brought to them for Care for Magical Creatures. Some of them got a bit uppity when the ignorant or mischievous students provoked them, and Hagrid had needed to wrestle the great beasties into submission. With due respect to the temperature, he was wearing a leather vest, open in the front. The muscles rippling on Hagrid's arms and chest were scarred in several places from where the tussling had gotten a bit rough.

"Hallo!" he boomed, not sounding a bit winded, despite his exercise. "Don't mine me. I've jus' bin cuttin' a bit of wood fer the fire."

"Hello, Hagrid," Sirius said warmly.

"Harry," Hagrid said with a nod.

"Professor."

"Oh, yeh don't need teh be botherin' with that on the holiday," Hagrid said, sounding embarrassed. "I'm just Hagrid, same as I was when I come get you offa that rock."

Harry had never forgotten that night. That was the moment when his whole world had changed. Hagrid was the first wizard Harry had ever met, even if he wasn't a fully qualified wizard. It had been the start of his crazy magical adventure, and Hagrid had been there.

Granted, Hagrid had done little to impress him since then. The man drank too much and had once tried to raise a dragon in his wooden hut. He'd kept a giant spider in the castle while he'd been a student, been blamed for Moaning Myrtle's death, and expelled.

But he'd risen from the lowly position of groundskeeper and become a teacher at that same school. Harry knew that Hagrid had been framed but had no way to prove it. Still, he'd done alright for himself. Hagrid was Professor Dumbledore's man through and through. He'd warned Vernon Dursley to never insult the man. Dumbledore had reciprocated that loyalty.

"Would yeh like some tea or summat?"

"No, thank you. We just finished lunch," Sirius declined politely.

"So then. Yer owl said it were a matter of importance?"

"Yes. I know it's been a long time, but do you still have my old motorbike? I've been telling Harry stories about it, and he asked what happened to it."

Hagrid laughed merrily. "Oh, that thing! Aye, I've still got it. Keep it locked up right safe. Nobody bothers it t'all. I should've known yeh'd be comin' fer it."

Sirius had morosely speculated that his old joyride had ended up as scrap metal, so his face lit up like a firecracker. He was very agitated as Hagrid stepped inside his hut.

"Jus' gimmie a moment 'ere!"

Harry watched with Sirius as Hagrid emerged from his hut carrying the old umbrella he'd used in the past to perform bits of magic. He'd asked Harry to keep quiet about what his umbrella could do, and now he pointed it at a large rock set a few steps from the hut.

With a rumble, the ground beneath the rock began to rise up. A stony pillar emerged. With a tap from Hagrid's umbrella, the stone melted away to reveal an arch. Hagrid stepped inside and wheeled out a very dusty, very dirty motorbike. He propped it on the kickstand.

Sirius walked slowly towards the bike. He ran one hand along the handlebars and grimaced at the grime he wiped off. Sirius uttered a Charm that Harry didn't recognize, and dust poofed into the air, repelled from the surface of the motorbike.

Now it was a thing of beauty. Chrome gleamed in the noonday sun. The dark blue paint sparkled like it was alive. Sirius nodded in satisfaction and walked around it to see every angle.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I appreciate you taking such good care of her."

"My pleasure, Sirius. Are yeh off, then?"

"Yes. I know Harry's eager for his first ride."

"But I left my helmet at home," Harry said.

Sirius winked at him and pulled the helmet from a fold of his robes. "Give me a bit of credit, please," he requested, taking out his own helmet, glossy black with red and gold flames. He fastened the strap under his chin before checking Harry's as well. He threw a leg over the seat and ran his hands over the handlebars again.

Powerful maintenance charms must have preserved the motorbike, because a mighty roar split the air as the great machine thundered to life. Several birds took to the air, startled out of their complacence by the unmistakable sound of a Harley-Davidson.

Sirius reached out and gave Harry a hand as he settled into the seat. Sirius gunned the throttle a bit, and Harry's laughter was lost as they rolled across the grounds. Sirius' hair whipped Harry in the face as they took off down the path, raising a cloud of dust in their wake. The gates opened as they approached, and then they were hurtling on the lane to Hogsmeade. Sirius activated the shifter on the left side of the engine. With a hard bounce, they flew up into the air!

It was just like the dream he'd had as a child. But it had been no mere dream. Harry's night visions had called up the memory of being taken away from Godric's Hollow by Hagrid on Sirius' motorbike, _this_ motorbike.

"Brilliant!" he screamed in Sirius' ear.

Sirius could only laugh with him.

After a time in the sky, Sirius activated the Disillusionment Charm, and magic slid down Harry's head like warm water. Sirius directed the motorbike downward towards a large town. They landed smoothly on the road and ducked into an alley. Sirius killed the concealment, and they exited with a roar of the motor.

Sirius skilfully weaved the motorbike in and out of traffic. Muggles on the sidewalk all turned their heads to look as they drove by. Harry couldn't help but wave at them as he passed. They got onto the motorway, and Sirius really opened up the throttle. Harry knew he was going just as fast as a racing broom. The rushing wind was intoxicating.

With a screech of rubber on pavement, Sirius stopped the motorbike in front of a dilapidated old storefront that Harry wouldn't have recognized if not for the faded sign hanging outside proclaiming the Leaky Cauldron.

"What are we doing here?" Harry asked over the noise of the engine idling.

"Shopping trip. You've got your list, right?"

"Er."

"Good thing I brought it, then." Sirius shut off the motor and surreptitiously tapped the engine with his wand. "Now nobody who doesn't know the Charm can activate it," he said.

That was a very useful security measure, and Harry resolved to remember it and adapt it to other circumstances. Sirius tucked their helmets away in the folds of his robes, and they strolled through the door to the pub. Old Tom nodded to them as he wiped off the counter. Sirius didn't stop for a drink as he led Harry out the back to the brick wall that marked the entrance to Diagon Alley. Sirius did not hesitate as he tapped on the brick to open the way into the centre of wizarding commerce.

"First stop, Madam Malkin's," Harry decided. "I've grown again."

"Funny how that happens," Sirius observed innocently.

To Harry's intense surprise, Madam Malkin's stool was occupied by Millie Bulstrode; she was wearing something that looked remarkably like a dress. The fabric was pale purple and frilly. As Harry walked in, she was vacillating about how fancy she looked.

"This is rotten!" she half-shouted. "I can't even move in this thing! Too much frill!"

"I dunno, Mills. That colour is quite fetching on you."

Instead of spitting back a retort, Millie hid her face in the folds of the material. "Go away, Harry. I don't want anyone to see me like this."

"My dear, _everyone_ is going to see you like this," Madam Malkin fussed. "You will look your absolute best, I promise."

"My best is barely Blaise's worst," Millie snapped back.

"You're too hard on yourself," Harry said encouragingly. "It's not like you're Eloise Midgen."

Millie giggled wickedly. The Hufflepuff girl had been teased all during the last year for having a horrible pimple problem. Pansy had done a good amount of that teasing, scoring bonus points for mocking an older student.

"True, there's that. But you know me, Harry. I hate dressing up. Why do we have to have stupid dress robes this year?"

"I don't know."

"You're lucky you don't have to wear this get-up," Millie said heatedly. "Mother swore she'd never try to get me in a dress again and dumped me here. She's gone in for an ice cream while I have to stand here and be pricked with needles held by shaking hands. Alright, get on with it."

Alice, Madam Malkin's assistant, quickly helped Harry into a bottle-green number.

"This'll go lovely with your eyes, love," she declared. "And what's more, it's a Bulstrode robe."

"I recognize that," Millie said. "Mother showed me the design two months ago for some odd reason. She wanted to know what I thought. Mental. As if I care about clothes."

Sirius, leaning against the back wall, was acting silly whenever he thought the ladies weren't watching, and it was all Harry could do to not double up with laughter at the faces and miming.

Even distracted, he didn't let her turn him into too much of a dandy. When at last he was allowed to step off the stool, Harry wrote down the colours and quantities he wanted (black for school, green for whenever, silver dress for Christmas, and white dress for New Year's Eve).

Harry reached for his moneybag, but Sirius had already laid down some Galleons on the counter. He looked askance at his godfather, but realized at once that he didn't need to pay his own way any more. It was a strange feeling, but immensely comforting. This is what it meant to have a dad, someone to trust in. Sirius was his guardian and would provide for him. Harry blinked away a sudden wetness in his eyes.

They bid good-bye to Millie, who was ranting at poor Madam Malkin, and continued with their shopping. There were not very many people out today, so Harry was able to quickly acquire all of his books and supplies. He made sure to stock up his potions ingredients, taking so much time in the Apothecary that Sirius started to tease him about not having time to visit Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Oh no," Harry said hurriedly. "I need broom polish."

"That broom doesn't need any polish. It's as bright as a diamond."

"Because I polish it."

When at last their trip was done, they carried all of Harry's purchases to the brick wall at the end of the alley. With a Shrinking Charm and a wide wand movement, Sirius reduced all of the items to a mere fraction of their former size, placed them neatly in his pocket, and led the way back to Muggle London.

It was almost with regret that Harry climbed off when they reached Grimmauld Place. Sirius walked the motorbike into the back and stored it in the shed. He hung his helmet on the handlebars, placed Harry's on the seat, and locked the shed securely.

Sirius put his hand on Harry's shoulder as they walked towards the house.

"You're doing very well with your lessons," Sirius said approvingly.

Harry had quickly achieved being able to grow his hair at an instant's thought. He debated adopting a radical new style, but the ponytail he tried looked so ridiculous that even his mirror had laughed at him. He had also seemingly gained control over his hair's unruly nature. It stayed cut now, and he could even style it if so inclined. Would wonders never cease?

"I have a good teacher."

"My excellent tutelage aside, you can't train what's not there. I told you I'd have you transforming in no time."

"If I can get past the pain."

Harry was now trying to melt the flesh and bones of his hands to make his fingers longer. He practised several times every day, even when he was by himself, even if it was only for a few minutes. It was very painful work. Sometimes while he was trying to manipulate his hands, his brain forgot and tried to grow his hair some more. It was very distracting, because then his hands throbbed in synchronization with his head. Harry had resorted to the medicinal potions more than a few times.

Seeing Sirius so happy at the progress Harry was making made the pain worth it. His father would have been just as proud, Sirius often said wistfully. Harry had seldom had an adult be proud of him, and he didn't quite know how to respond. All Harry knew was that he wanted to keep making Sirius proud. He wanted to see his godfather smile more. Laughter drove away the shadows of Azkaban that still haunted him from time to time.

But Harry had his own shadows that haunted his dreams. Three nights shy of three weeks later, his sleep was troubled. He tossed and turned as visions filled his head. He fought against the covers and woke up shouting a warning to a Muggle he'd never met before.

Harry bolted out of bed and up the stairs to Sirius' room. He'd never been so terrified, even by his worst nightmares. He crashed the door open and flung himself to the floor beside the bed. The old scar on his forehead, which was shaped like a bolt of lightning, was burning beneath his fingers as though someone had just pressed a white-hot wire to his skin.

"Sirius! Wake up, please!"

"Harry! Are you hurt? What's going on?"

"I dreamed!" he gasped. "I dreamed of Voldemort. And it was really him!"

"What do you mean it was really him?"

"I've had bad dreams before. He's been the cause of a lot of them, but this was different. It felt real. It felt like it was really happening. I don't know where it was, but I think someone's helping him again. I saw a room, and a cradle, and a snake."

Harry spilled out his dream in bits and pieces. Basically, he'd seen two men he didn't know and heard one person he was well-acquainted with. Lord Voldemort's high, cold voice still gave Harry chills. The evil wizard had been talking to one man who appeared to be his servant. They'd been plotting - something, and the other man had overheard them. Voldemort had commanded his Death Eater to kill the man. The thump of a body hitting the floor echoed in Harry's ears.

"My scar hurts. I can feel my pulse. It's throbbing so bad, Sirius. Make it stop, please."

Sirius tapped the scar with his wand and the agony faded to a dull ache. Harry almost cried with relief. His trembling gradually ceased as Sirius stroked his hair soothingly.

"It's all right, Harry. I'm here. I won't let anything hurt you."

When he'd calmed down, Harry cleared his throat and stood up.

"Thank you, Sirius. Sorry to be such a swot."

"Don't ever be sorry to come to me," his godfather said firmly. "Any time, day or night, rain or shine, I will drop the world for you."

Harry gave Sirius a grateful hug that was strongly returned. He went back downstairs and got into bed, though it was a long time before he closed his eyes. He slept a bit, though it was not easy sleep. After breakfast, Sirius broached the subject of the nightmare.

"I think you should write to Professor Dumbledore. He's very knowledgeable, and he might be able to shed some light on the subject."

Harry and Sirius had at last reached a bone of contention. In Harry's humble opinion, Dumbledore was a hasty-witted slice of maggot-pie. When Harry had been orphaned by Lord Voldemort, the most evil Dark wizard in an age, Dumbledore had decreed that Harry was to live with his mother's Muggle sister and family. He'd been warned by his trusted second, Professor McGonagall, that these Muggles were the worst of their sort, but still Harry had gone. At Number 4 Privet Drive, Harry had gone through ten years of hell. Dumbledore had known about it, at least in part, and done nothing. When Harry had confronted the old wizard about it, he had made no defence, saying that it was the best of bad choices. Harry honestly wondered what could have been worse.

"I'm not about to ask him," Harry declared, folding his arms across his chest. "He's never done anything for me before. Why should he start now?"

Sirius looked troubled. "I'll admit he could have looked after you a bit better, but he's still very wise, Harry."

Harry tried not to snort. "He might know a lot of things, but one thing he isn't is wise. A wise person listens to advice. He said Professor McGonagall warned him about the Dursleys. Why wouldn't he listen to her? He obviously trusts her."

Sirius couldn't answer the question, because he let it pass. "Despite your personal feelings towards Professor Dumbledore, which are entirely understandable given your age, you should still write to him and ask because he's still your best resource. No one in the known history of magic has ever survived the Killing Curse. Therefore, your best bet at finding the knowledge you seek is to consult with the most learned wizards. That means Dumbledore."

It was enough to make you sick. "It's not fair," Harry complained.

Sirius now smiled at him. "No, life seldom is. I hope no one ever promised you it would be."

Harry didn't feel like answering that. At least, not in words he suspected his godfather might hex his mouth shut for saying.

"Tell you what," Sirius proposed, "I'll write to Dumbledore."

"You?"

"Sure. Why not?"

And Harry couldn't think of a reason. So after breakfast, Sirius drafted a letter of inquiry. He shared the contents with Harry before he sent it, and Harry felt that Sirius did a much better job than he ever could have of neutrally conveying the information without giving away how terrified Harry had been. He handed back the parchment with a nod of thanks.

Until Regal came back, there was nothing else to do but carry on with his day. He followed Sirius into the duelling room where he practised his Animagus lessons some more. After lunch, they went for a spin around London on the motorbike. Tea time passed, and Harry laid down his head to sleep that night without any word from Professor Dumbledore.

to be continued...


	5. The Quidditch World Cup

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Five - The Quidditch World Cup**

The Portkey was a singularly unpleasant form of transportation. Feeling jerked into the ether via a hook behind his navel and being hurtled through space-time left one amazingly dizzy. It almost made Harry feel appreciative of Floo travel.

They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.

Sirius exchanged a few words with the men and led the way to a Mr. Roberts, who was very clearly a Muggle. Mr. Roberts was in fact a very confused Muggle. That was due to the fact that whenever Mr. Roberts witnessed the strange (to him) actions of the assorted wizards of the world, he would begin to question. He would then start to answer his own questions. That was usually the point when the Obliviator showed up. Even as they talked with him about which campsite they were in, a wizard wearing poisonous yellow plus-fours appeared out of thin air to alter his memory.

"Funny lot here-abouts. Everyone seems to know each other, even the foreigners. Lot of them, too. One bloke tried to pay me in wooden nickels!"

The Obliviator Apparated into sight behind him and cast, "_Obliviate!_"

Mr. Roberts blinked owlishly. "Top of the hill there next to the big oak. Here's a map of the campsite." He peered at Sirius intently. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"_Obliviate!_"

The poor Muggle wandered off in a daze, and the Obliviator snorted with disgust. "I don't get paid enough for this. I need a vacation." Without further comment, he Disapparated.

As Harry and Sirius walked across the campsite, they saw flags from every nation. Germans were camped next to Spaniards. Poles bordered with Finns. Italians, French, Swedes, and more were present. Of course there were plenty of Scots, Welsh, and British, to say nothing of the Irish. Ireland was one of the teams in the final, facing Bulgaria.

"Harry! Over here!"

Percy Weasley was calling his name. Harry looked to see him standing beside a very common canvas tent. There were three other red-haired people with him. Ginny, Harry knew. The others were strangers.

"Harry, meet my older brothers Bill and Charlie. Brothers, Harry Potter."

Charlie held out a large hand, which Harry shook, feeling calluses and blisters under his fingers. Charlie worked with dragons in Romania. He was built shorter and stockier than Percy, who was long and lanky. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weather-beaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned; his arms were muscular, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it.

Bill was all smiles and also shook Harry's hand. Bill came as something of a surprise. Harry knew that he worked for the wizarding bank, Gringotts, and that Bill had been Head Boy at Hogwarts; Harry had always imagined Bill to be an older version of Percy before that worthy's defection to Slytherin: fussy about rule-breaking and fond of bossing everyone around. Nothing could be further from the truth. Bill looked - there was no other word for it - cool. He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it. Bill's clothes would not have looked out of place at a Wand Smasher concert. Harry recognized his boots to be made, not of leather, but of dragon hide.

"Percy and Ginny have said all kinds of nice things about you," Bill said pleasantly.

"Especially Ginny," Charlie snickered.

Ginny responded by kicking him in the shin.

"This is my godfather, Sirius Black."

Both Weasley men took a sharp breath and a step back. Percy rolled his eyes at his older brothers and gave them each a solid whack in the arm.

"He's an innocent man, you. The Minister himself declared it."

Bill attempted to speak, but made only a partial recovery of his wits, for he stammered horribly as he reached out a trembling hand to greet Sirius. Not a trace of levity showing, Sirius shook it. More.

Charlie cleared his throat. "I must apologize for our rudeness. I blame an anxious mother who drilled the name Sirius Black into our nightmares."

"I'm glad you were vindicated," Bill said. "I hope you sued for a billion Galleons."

"Not quite that much, but yes, the Ministry will be making a small transfer of funds to my accounts. Former Minister Bagnold will be providing much more."

"So Harry, Percy tells me you're the youngest Seeker in a century? I was a Seeker once upon a time. Led Gryffindor to six straight Cups."

"And Slytherin has taken it for the last ten," Harry shot back with a cocky smirk. "And I was there for three of them, and I'm only going to be a fourth year."

"Oh, there were times before we took the Cup that I still caught the Snitch. I just hadn't been given the authority to whip my Chasers and Beaters into shape. When McGonagall made me Captain, we took the Cup that year, going from last to first."

That _was_ pretty impressive.

"What's your fastest catch?" Harry asked instead.

"Three minutes, three seconds."

"Not bad. Nothing on my two fifty-nine, though."

Charlie was now eyeing Harry up and down. It was the look of a Quidditch captain. Harry knew it well. Marcus Flint had given him the same eye. Harry knew he would have to develop that look for when he became captain himself.

"Yeah, not bad. Which broom was that on?"

"Nimbus Two Thousand. I've upgraded since then."

"To what?"

"A Firebolt."

Charlie whistled in amazed admiration. "Wow, I wish I had that much money to spend on a broom. Holy dragon breath!"

"It's the fastest thing on the market. Still."

"No kidding. But I guess you need all the help you can get, right, kid?"

Harry bristled. "Don't talk down to me just because you're taller. I'll fly against you any day, and _you_ can ride the Firebolt. I'll _still_ beat you to the Snitch!"

"Now those sound like fighting words," Charlie declared. "You're on. Where's my broom? I don't need your shiny toy, Potter. I've got a top-line Cleansweep Ten."

"I eat Clean Tens for breakfast."

"Now, now, Harry, don't provoke the hot-tempered Gryffindors," Sirius joked, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "No fighting in front of the rest of the world. You're acting as representatives of Great Britain for the next few days."

Percy added his own opinion. "Quite right, you know, Charlie. Don't you see the French over there? And over on the other side, Merlin help us all, it's the Americans. If you cause an international incident, Mother will skin you alive."

"I'm just going to teach the mouthy little Slytherin a bit about flying," Charlie protested.

"No, you're not," Percy declared firmly.

"Listen to Percy, Charlie." Ginny advised.

"Maybe we should be going," Sirius suggested. "We still need to find our campsite."

"See you around, Percy. Bye, Ginny."

Their designated space was marked with a little sign reading "BLACK". It was a decent little square of land abutting a tall oak tree, pleasantly free from mud. Without ado, Sirius unpacked the tent. Carefully showing Harry every step of what he was doing, he quickly had the tent pitched. Perhaps nine feet by five, it stood about three feet high and was nauseatingly orange. Harry immediately tapped it with his wand and changed it to a more sedate green.

"Cheering for Ireland, are we?" Sirius asked.

"Sure. I don't know anyone from Bulgaria, and at least the Irish speak English."

"Well, sort of."

Aside from its previous colour, there was nothing glaringly obvious about their tent. The same could not be said, however, for the others around them. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bellpulls, or weather vanes. However, here and there was a tent so obviously magical that Harry could hardly be surprised that Mr. Roberts was getting suspicious. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on was a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.

The only way their humble tent resembled a palace was inside. The main room had feather pillows strewn about amidst elaborate lamps and low tables with trays of sweets and pitchers of ice-cold drinks. Doors on either side led to private bedrooms. A wide door to the back led to a spacious dining room with a full kitchen off to the side. Except for that kitchen, it reminded Harry very much of the Arabian Nights.

"Well, this is grand," Harry said appreciatively. "I never cease to be impressed with just how cool magic can be. This is much better than kipping in a sleeping bag."

"Magic can provide many comforts," Sirius agreed.

"Are you hungry? Because I'm hungry. Does that kitchen work?"

"It certainly does. Let's have a look."

They ended up fixing ham sandwiches with crisps and a pickle. They washed it all down with cold glasses of pumpkin juice.

Sirius wasn't nearly so excited about things as Harry was. The idea of thousands of people packed around him made him a bit nervous, he confessed. Sirius hadn't really been out in the public eye yet aside from a brief appearance in the Three Broomsticks in the late spring and a very secret, private meeting at the Ministry.

"Do you not want to go walking around?" Harry asked. He didn't like the edginess in Sirius' voice.

"I just keep thinking about Mister Roberts."

"What about him?"

"He recognized me. Didn't you say that even the Muggle news programmes were talking about my escape?"

"Yeah. You think he saw you there?"

"I've certainly never seen him before. That was a Muggle. Imagine how it would be if wizards start in on me? I've been the blackest of criminals for twelve years. Hearing it contrary in the newspaper is very little counter to that deep sort of impression. You saw how the Weasley boys reacted. I don't think I'm ready to deal with that on a large scale. You go exploring, though. Just be safe and respectful of everyone you meet."

"Hello?" came a voice from the entrance.

"Draco?" Harry called out.

"None other. Wow, tally place."

"Thanks."

"Hello, cousin."

"Hello, Draco."

"Ready to explore, Harry?"

"Ready steady."

"Father wouldn't settle for less than the best, so he's still setting up the secondary tent with the swimming pool. Cousin, I was to convey an invitation to join us after dinner this evening."

"Thank you, young owl."

"Hoot-hoot."

"Where's Elan? He's not chaperoning you?"

"No, he's working with the Ministry as a translator, remember?" Harry had heard Elan talking about that at the birthday party, but other things had weighed more on his mind.

"So shall we go make friendly with foreigners?" Draco asked brightly.

"I trust your father advised you about proper behaviour," Sirius said in a questioning tone.

"Oh, he was in rare form this morning. Said if he caught me doing _anything_, I would be packed off to Durmstrang just like Elan."

"That might not be so bad. How many N.E.W.T.s did Elan get?"

"Twelve. But I can't speak German."

"Elan could teach you."

"I'd rather stay at Hogwarts, thanks."

"Sirius, may we go look around?"

"Just be back in three hours. I'll get something cooking for dinner. Take your broom, and your cloak, just in case."

"Thanks, Sirius!"

Harry and Draco dashed out of the tent and collided squarely with Millie. Younger brother Arcen was tagging along, and his laughter at watching the older kids fall down was high and mocking.

Millie jumped to her feet and grabbed Arcen's arm. She twisted, spun him around, and wrapped her other arm around his throat and started to squeeze.

Arcen squealed with pain and begged, "Ow! Lemme go!"

"Say uncle."

"Uncle!"

Millie smirked at Harry and Draco. "Now tell my friends how much you like kittens."

"Get bent! Ow! Okay, okay! Harry-"

"Potter, you little brat. He hasn't said you can use his given name."

"Ow! P-potter, Malfoy, I want you to know that I really like kittens. Ow! I think they're cute. And- and precious."

Draco snickered from the ground. "That's very interesting, Arse."

Harry stood up and offered Draco a hand to his feet.

"Now then," Millie said speculatively.

"Enough, troll-face!"

"Oh, that was a mistake," Millie said with delight. She squeezed her brother's neck a bit more. "Did you eat all of your vegetables last night at dinner? Do you like broccoli?"

"Yes, yes, I love broccoli!" Arcen half-shouted.

"Okay." She let him go abruptly.

"Millie, we were hoping to run into you," Harry said as he brushed off the dirt.

Draco and Millie both groaned at him. "Where are you two off to in such a hurry?"

"Mostly just walking around, I think. I see you're also carrying a broom."

"As always, Draco, you state the obvious."

"And what use do you intend to put that broom to, Millicent?"

"Same as you, I imagine." Millie and Draco were sharing a smirk in a way that made Harry start to smirk as well. Parents and godfathers had said to behave, but they'd said nothing about laying down.

Within a few more steps, they saw the sort of people they were looking for. Three kids on brooms were flying around a large cauldron on an elaborate metal frame. They looked to be carrying a Quaffle, and the object of their game was to evade the other two players and dunk the Quaffle into the cauldron.

It was the Americans' campsite, and they had quite a large one. Genuine rock wall delineated their ground, a foot high all around. Right in front was a tall flagpole, the American flag rippling, even though no breeze blew. Perhaps ten identical tents were pitched in a row. It was a neat and tidy affair outside, all straight lines. Another rock wall marked off the broom area in back.

"Hallo, Americans!" Draco called out.

One of the three boys on brooms noticed them and yelled at his friends. Together they swooped down and landed at the front entrance. They looked to be about Harry's age. Each boy was wearing green robes that had the look of uniforms.

The leader was tall with close-cropped black hair. He had a sharp nose and narrow brown eyes. He eyed all three of them quickly, and he turned to Draco.

"You wanted something?" he asked in a bored voice.

"I see you're having a bit of sport," Draco drawled in his most languid manner. "I wonder if you wouldn't be interested in some friendly competition."

"What, you all?" said one of the other American boys. He brushed back brown hair and raised one eyebrow.

"What's this game you've bastardized a Quaffle for? It's not Quidditch."

"Quidditch," the first boy scoffed derisively. "This is a Quod, and the game is Quodpot."

"Not that Quidditch isn't grand," the second boy added diplomatically. "But Quodpot is on a whole other level."

"How do you play?" Harry asked. What could possibly be better than Quidditch?

"It's real simple," the first boy said. "This Quod here will explode if you don't get it into the cauldron there soon enough."

"Sounds tally," Millie opined.

"A girl wants to play Quodpot?" said the last American, who hadn't yet spoken. "Check it out, fellas."

"If Amy heard you talking like that, Jeff, she'd hex you to the wall," the second boy scoffed. "Didn't she make the team before you?"

"We'd be delighted to have a round of Quodpot with you," the first boy said to Draco. "But we don't play with strangers. Eric Lochmaster. This is Brian O'Leary and Jeff Smitherson."

"Draco Malfoy, Millie Bulstrode, Harry Potter."

Harry's fame clearly extended beyond Britain. The three boys recognized the name. The inevitable quick glances up to his forehead followed. Harry tamped down his irritation and managed not to scowl.

"Okay, then," Eric said. "The rules are, anything goes. Quodpot is a fairly rough game, and the school teams use pads. Since this is a friendly game, we don't need pads, but the rules are the same. As guests, you get the Quod first. The goal is to dunk it in the cauldron there. That causes a turnover. If it explodes, that's a turnover and a point for us."

The Quod was a heavier Quaffle, and the rough leather was blackened with scorch marks in places. Harry would have felt better about chasing a Snitch as he tossed the ball from hand to hand to get a feel for it. The three American boys kicked off into the sky and began a defensive pattern around the cauldron. Harry handed the Quod to Draco.

"Hawkshead Attack Formation," Draco said after studying the American defence. "We'll cut right through them and sink this."

Marcus Flint, Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team would have been proud of their coordination. The three Slytherins were almost good enough to have made the team as Chasers. Draco and Millie were dead-set to try out against Warrington, Pucey, and Montague when they returned to Hogwarts in the fall and had been practising. The Americans didn't seem to be prepared for some of the tactics out of Flint's playbook, which Harry had been drilling on with the others during Quidditch practice at Malfoy Manor. Conversely, when they managed to fly past the Brits like they weren't even there, Harry was amazed and dismayed. He took careful mental notes, wondering what might work against Gryffindor.

The more the Quod was passed from player to player, the longer the thing went without exploding and the team had more time to try to score, so there was plenty of room for interceptions. The final score was ten to six. Harry and his friends had put up a tough fight, but still managed to lose spectacularly. Only a last second explosion had kept Harry from sinking the Quod and preventing the inevitable. That point had won the game.

"Not bad, redcoats," Lochmaster complimented as they landed. "If you want to come back for a rematch before the end of the Cup, we'd love to beat you again."

"That could be fun. How many players to a team in regulation?" Harry was now intensely curious about Quodpot and was plotting ways he could get a Quod to blow up in Ron Weasley's face.

"Standard is eleven, but you can play with any number, really."

Harry couldn't get over the funny way they talked. He found himself asking more questions just to listen to it. Lochmaster and his friends were glad to tell them all about Pine Manor School of Magic and the American Wizarding Republic.

American wizards largely kept to themselves. They claimed the whole of North America as their territory, and strangers were not welcome. Powerful magical barriers guarded the coasts, preventing direct Apparition and broom travel. There were no Portkeys allowed either. The only route of entry or exit was through a specialized Floo connection via Greenland, Iceland, and Ireland on the east, via Alaska in the north, and via a stronghold in Panama to the south.

Their school, Pine Manor, had been founded to serve the needs of pureblooded families in the old colonies. Other schools had been founded to teach Muggleborns, but there was no grander institute of learning with fine old traditions. American wizarding society was of the most common blood, with merit being the sole qualifier. That was just fine with the purebloods; who possessed more merit than those who had been raised with magic their whole lives?

It was an interesting concept to Harry, and he could see echoes of it in the Magical Child Protection Act. It didn't matter where a wizard came from, only that he _was_ a wizard.

"Well, we're off to explore a bit more. It's been smashing good fun, Yanks. We'll see you later, yeah?" Harry knew he was being a bit pompous, but he couldn't help himself.

"Oh yeah. We still need that rematch."

Harry and his friends wandered around, taking in all the sights. Arcen tagged along a few steps behind, dazzled by the phenomenal flying he'd witnessed. Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire. They encountered another group of Americans, a group of middle-aged witches gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that read: THE SALEM WITCHES' INSTITUTE. Harry caught snatches of conversation in strange languages from the inside of tents they passed, and though he couldn't understand a word, the tone of every single voice was excited.

There was no question when they walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth, that they'd found the Irish. Grinning freckled faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open.

They saw Finnigan and Thomas, fellow fourth year students at Hogwarts. They were in Gryffindor House and apart from Potions class, Slytherins paid little heed to them. The Gryffindors only attracted attention when they stood up with Ron Weasley to act like gits. There had been a few hexes and a few blows exchanged, so Harry reckoned that they didn't need to stop and chat.

At a large patch of tents upfield, the Bulgarian flag - white, green, and red - hung limp on a flagpole. The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.

"Krum," said Millie quietly.

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Krum! Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker! He's an unbelievable talent, and young besides. Right genius at Quidditch, you know."

"Isn't he the one Elan told us about in one of his letters?" Draco asked. "He finished at Durmstrang, right?"

"Yes," Millie answered.

Salesmen were carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes - green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria - which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.

The most interesting thing they found was called by the salesman, "Omnioculars". They looked like a very expensive pair of Muggle binoculars with a dozen more knobs and dials added for good measure. Wizards had harnessed magic to recreate the video camera, for the image seen through the lenses could be paused, rewound, slowed down, and fast forwarded. Harry instantly bought two pair for him and Sirius.

As the sun set, the camp was lit up by various wizardly magics. The most impressive of all was the flagpole in the Americans' campsite which glowed gently, illuminating the flag that still fluttered in the dead air.

Harry and Draco left Millie and Arcen at the Bulstrode encampment (where the tent had two stories and minarets at the corners) and meandered to the Malfoy site. The pair strolled into camp to see Lucius Malfoy having heated words with a strange wizard.

"I won't hear any more of it, Selwyn. Go back to your mistress and have her feed you grapes. Don't be a fool."

Selwyn folded his arms across his chest. "When you loosen up a little bit, Lucius, let me know." With an angry pop, he Disapparated.

Mr. Malfoy sneered at the empty air where Selwyn had been. Then he caught sight of Draco, and his smile returned.

"My son, it is so good to see you have behaved yourself. I'm very proud of you."

"Thank you, Father."

"Harry, have you been having fun?"

"Yes, sir. We learned about a new broom game from some Americans called Quodpot. It's only got one ball, a heavier Quaffle, and if you don't dunk it in the cauldron in time, it explodes."

Mr. Malfoy blinked. "Americans are very unusual wizards. They're particularly fond of explosions."

"It was like Quidditch, but at the same time, not at all. It's hard to explain. Of course I don't play Chaser. Draco and Millie did much better than I did." It was true. Harry had been nursing burned fingers and was fair covered with soot when the game was over. Thankfully a few Cleaning Charms, which Harry could now cast without effort, took care of all three of them.

"It is always important to have friends," Mr. Malfoy declared. "Nothing like a little sporting contest to break the ice. Well done."

"Thank you, sir." Harry checked his pocket watch that had been a gift from Mr. Nott two Christmases ago. "And I'm late. Sirius is making dinner."

Harry hopped on his Firebolt and the sound of his farewell was lost as he zoomed down the path. He blew right past Mr. Roberts, who stared with incredulity until he was thankfully Obliviated yet again. Harry practically screeched to a halt in front of the tent and stumbled off his broom.

"Sirius? I'm back!" he called out as he entered the tent. The scent of roast chicken was strong in the air. "That smells great!"

"Thank you."

Sirius was in the kitchen, where he had a spit set up on a grill. Though there was no motor, the chicken turned above the flame that burned with no fuel. The bird was just a perfect shade of brown. He was right on time.

After the dishes had been set to wash themselves, Harry led Sirius to the Malfoy campsite. Draco was waiting for them outside the tent to escort them inside.

Mr. Malfoy had spared nothing.

It was as though they'd been transported to Rome. There were columns everywhere, festooned with silk bunting. Fountains burbled happily and an artificial sun shone down in the common area. What appeared to be genuine little homes led to bedrooms. Mr. Malfoy was lounging on a backless chair in what could only be called a park area, complete with stone benches. There were some pillows though, which Harry was appreciative for after the bang-up he'd had playing Quodpot.

"Cousin Sirius, it is good to see you."

"If you insist, Lucius."

"Do sit down. What would you care for?"

"We've just eaten."

"A drink, then?"

"No."

Mr. Malfoy's eyes narrowed just a bit, and his forehead wrinkled slightly. "Cousin, stop this. You're acting like a child. Nibby!"

The house elf appeared with a loud pop. "Master called for Nibby. Nibby has come. What is Master being needing?"

"I should think a carafe of wine and one of grape juice."

Nibby bowed and vanished, only to appear twenty seconds later with a silver tray containing two glass vessels filled with purple liquid and four goblets. He set this carefully on a smooth stone pillar and poured the wine. These glasses he sent levitating over to the adults while Harry and Draco received the grape juice.

"To magic," Mr. Malfoy said, raising his drink. "Wizards, talent, brooms, and Quidditch! Magic: it is our blessing."

Harry and Draco clinked goblets. "To Quidditch!"

Sirius had not joined the toast, and Harry shot him a penetrating look. _Please_, he implored silently. Sirius shot a flinty glare at Mr. Malfoy, but he clinked glass with Harry and Draco.

There was a brief moment of uncomfortable silence.

"So we decided that we're actually going to challenge Montague, Pucey, and Warrington at trials," Draco said abruptly. "Though Tim has been a right slouch, so Millie and I have been limited to practising two-person manoeuvres."

"Then you're sunk," Harry replied. "Because I know for a fact that Bletchley is going to find the best three and make them play his dream team. There's no way you can hope to beat them."

"Not with a left-handed broom, no."

"I wouldn't worry too much about not making the team, Draco," Mr. Malfoy said mysteriously. "There will be plenty of other things to occupy your attention next year."

"Like what?"

"I'm really not supposed to say."

Sirius was watching Mr. Malfoy intently.

Harry was curious as well. "What's the big surprise? I hate surprises. Don't keep me in suspense, please."

"I've said too much."

"Oh, not nearly enough, I think," Sirius declared. "Out with it, Lucius. Tell me what you know."

"It's nothing, Sirius, nothing at all."

"I'm the judge of that. I don't want any surprises around Harry. Don't make me beat it out of you. I will."

"It's not a bad surprise, Sirius."

"I repeat, _I_ am the judge of that." Sirius flicked his wrist, and suddenly his wand was in his hand, pointed at Mr. Malfoy's face. "It may not have sunk in through that thick ego of yours, but I don't trust you, _Cousin_," he sneered. "I don't trust your intentions towards my godson. What is going on at Hogwarts next year?"

Harry felt filled with mortification at Sirius' actions, but Mr. Malfoy didn't seem the slightest bit perturbed at having a wand pointed at him. He sipped languidly from his goblet and set it down.

"Very well, Sirius, in the interest of assuaging your suspicious mind, I will tell you. After much negotiation, the Triwizard Tournament will be returning this year."

"The Triwizard Tournament?" Sirius repeated, echoed by Harry and Draco.

Mr. Malfoy answered the boys' question first. "The tournament is a competition once held every five years between the three great schools of magical learning: Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons. Each school selects a Champion, and there are three great Tasks. The Tasks vary from tournament to tournament, but they are all very dangerous and require strong magic to overcome."

"It's not just dangerous," Sirius reiterated. He had lowered his wand, but he still looked suspicious. "Champions have _died_. There was one tournament that had no winner."

"Measures are being taken to prevent hazard of that magnitude. International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have been negotiating with their opposite numbers in other countries to bring back the old spirit without the anarchy that marred earlier times."

"Brilliant," Draco exclaimed. "I can't wait to enter."

"You will not be entering. No student under the age of seventeen will be permitted to stand for selection as Champion."

"Well that's not fair," Draco retorted. "What if I were just that good?"

"Trust me, Draco, you're not that good," Sirius said. "Can you deal with a Sphinx? How about a honest-to-goodness mummy? There's worse than that in the tournament."

Mr. Malfoy, it seemed, was in agreement. "It is highly unlikely that any student not of age could have the skills needed to survive the tournament, but forbidding it is an added precaution. Even if it had not been, I still would not have allowed you to compete. Elan, perhaps, but you are still too young."

Harry took one look at the disapproving expression on Sirius' face and knew better than to ask if he could have competed. The question was answered before it could even be spoken.

"Seems a rather Goblin-esque deal, if you ask me," Draco said, folding his arms. "No chance at all for any recognition just because we're underage."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "You'd think they could organize a duelling tourney or inter-school Quidditch Cup or something."

"That's an excellent idea! Father! Do you have any friends in Magical Games and Sports?"

Mr. Malfoy seemed taken aback by Draco's enthusiasm. "I know Ludo Bagman, certainly; he's head of the department."

"Can you maybe get him to set up a tri-school Quidditch Cup?"

"I could speak with him, certainly. But I believe they will be very reluctant to renegotiate any of the terms of the treaty."

"Well it doesn't have to involve the government, does it? Couldn't the board of governors and the headmaster work out a little friendly competition?"

"Of course Headmaster Karkaroff is an old friend of mine as well. I believe something could be arranged. It wouldn't be nearly so grand as the Tasks."

"That would be enough."

"Then I will send the owls tonight."

"Thank you, Father."

"You are most welcome, Draco."

They turned to other topics, but Sirius apparently had nothing else to say to Mr. Malfoy. Any question Draco's father addressed to him, Sirius answered in short, clipped sentences. But he volunteered nothing. At least he was responding. Harry reasoned that was a good start. By the time they sought their beds, Sirius had almost stopped trying to burn a hole through Mr. Malfoy's head.

"Thanks for trying tonight," Harry said gratefully as they walked back to the tent. "I really want you to know that I appreciate you being vigilant. I know you don't see eye to eye with Draco's dad, but I don't think he's the way you think he is. Not any more."

"My brother turned back," Sirius said in a troubled voice. "I want to believe him, for your sake, but for your sake, I can't trust him. I need something a bit more tangible than the word of a former Death Eater before I'll believe Lucius has changed. You see, I knew him, once upon a time."

"He'll prove it to you, Sirius," Harry said earnestly. "We just need to figure out how."

to be continued...


	6. In The Minister's Box

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Six - In The Minister's Box**

On the day of the match, the camp began to slip the bounds that the Ministry had tried to enforce. Magic was blatantly used no matter where one turned. Excitement was heard in every voice, and by the time night fell, the air itself seemed to be quivering with anticipation. A deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed to life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.

Sirius and Harry met up with the Malfoys as everyone hurried into the woods. Everyone was excited. Thousands of people all around them were shouting and laughing, and Harry even heard a few snatches of singing. It was highly infectious; Harry couldn't stop grinning. They walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though Harry could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, he could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it.

"Wow," Harry breathed.

"It is very impressive, isn't it? There's a one hundred thousand being capacity," Mr. Malfoy said with a slow nod. "A Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Every inch has the strongest Muggle Repelling Charms we know. Every time Muggles have gotten anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again."

Harry was supposed to meet Susan outside, but how could he ever find her in this mass of people? The nearest entrance was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards. Fortunately, she had already arrived.

It was by merest chance that Harry saw her jumping up and scanning the crowd for him. He jumped up and waved back. "Susan! Over here!"

She saw him and pushed through the crowd to join them in the queue. "Harry! Hey!"

"Long wait?"

"Only a few minutes. I went through once, but when I told the witch I was just waiting for people, she sent me back out again. So I just kept getting in the queue. This'll be my fourth time through."

"That's sheer madness," Draco declared.

Susan shrugged. "It wasn't all bad. I got to talk to quite a few people and heard some very interesting information. Did you know Krum is still a student?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed with surprise.

"He is indeed."

"Then Elan must know him," Draco said speculatively. "Wait, didn't he mention a very good Seeker in one of his letters last year?"

"No, he told us at Christmas."

"Yes, we knew that," Draco told Susan.

"Uh huh. Sure, Malfoy."

"No, really!"

"Look sharp now, here's the witch again."

"Back again, dearie?" the Ministry witch at the entrance asked of Susan.

"No, these are my friends. I'll be going in now, please."

The witch checked their tickets. "Prime seats! Top Box! Straight upstairs, and as high as you can go."

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. They kept climbing, and at last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, and Harry filed into the front seats with the Malfoys in front of him, Draco to his right, Susan to his left, and Sirius bringing up the rear. He looked down upon a scene the likes of which he could never have imagined.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at Harry's eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, Harry saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family - safe, reliable, and with Built-in Anti-Burglar Buzzer Mrs. Shower's All Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain! Gladrags Wizardwear - London, Paris, Hogsmeade Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans - A Risk With Every Mouthful!

Susan had picked up one of the velvet-covered, tasselled programs. "'A display from the team mascots will precede the match,'" she read aloud.

"Oh that's always worth watching," said Mr. Malfoy. "National teams bring native creatures and put on a bit of a show."

Harry had snuck a few glances back at Sirius during the arduous climb to the Top Box, but now he really had a chance to assess his godfather. He'd been vetted in private gatherings, but this was the first time Sirius had really been out in public since his innocence had been proven. Harry knew well what it was like to be stared at and pointed at. Sirius was about as notorious as Harry was, except in a bad way. Harry was worried about how he would deal with it.

Sirius, for his part, seemed very vigilant. His eyes scanned the room, never seeming to rest on any object for too long. He carried himself very tightly, like a coiled spring ready to release at the slightest cause. Harry had no doubt that Sirius carried his wand up his sleeve again.

What they had been led to believe was the Minister's private box was not so private. The box filled gradually around them over the next half hour. Mr. Malfoy kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, he led his party right over to where Harry and his group were sitting.

"Lucius! Good to see you! Thank you again so much for that very generous contribution to Saint Mungo's. The Director has asked me to personally convey her gratitude." St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was Britain's premier institute of magical medicine. Mr. Malfoy had donated a large sum of money to help in the establishment of a new program of treatment for spinal injuries, which were tricky even for magic to heal properly.

"Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy, holding out his hand. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Mrs. Malfoy. "And allow me to introduce you to Mister Oblansk - Obalonsk - Mister - well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind."

The Bulgarian Minister was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold. He nodded confusedly to the Malfoys, who murmured polite greetings in return.

"And let's see who else? Ah, of course!"

Harry winced, for he knew the next words out of the Minister's mouth.

"Sirius Black! One of Britain's finest wizards, scion of the noble Black family."

Language barriers aside, the Bulgarian Minister clearly knew who Sirius was. A great look of fear filled his eyes, and he nervously extended a limp hand, which Sirius shook while trying to smile. Unfortunately it came off as more of a look implying that he was intending to pounce on the Minister and devour him. The poor man nearly collapsed on the spot.

Sirius glared daggers at Fudge, who seemed to falter a bit, but Harry's godfather tried again to smile at the Bulgarian Minister. It came off a bit more genuine this time, and the man relaxed a tad. His handshake became firmer, and he managed to let go.

"And of course, we can't forget-"

Here it came.

"Harry Potter! A pleasure, Harry, a pleasure." They had not met before, but Harry had seen Fudge enough times to not be impressed with him. He shook Harry's hand in a fashion that Harry privately found obsequious.

Fudge turned to the Bulgarian Minister. "Harry Potter! Oh come on now! You know who he is! The boy who survived You-Know-Who! You do know who he is!"

The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry's scar and started gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at it.

"Knew we'd get there in the end," said Fudge wearily to Harry. "I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Who's your lady friend, Harry?"

"Susan Bones," she answered for herself, sticking out her hand.

"Bones, Bones, not Amelia's niece?"

"The same."

"Wonderful job your aunt does. Wonderful job. Couldn't ask for someone better."

"Thank you, sir. You might remember that when it comes time for holiday bonuses."

Harry couldn't believe that Susan was being cheeky to the Minister of Magic. In public, no less. But Fudge laughed uproariously.

"Yes, definitely Amelia's niece. Perhaps in next year's budget. Now where's Bagman got to? He's Head of Magical Games and Sports, you know. Used to play for England many years ago. Beater. He's doing the commentary for the match tonight." Fudge checked his watch. "He's late. It's about to start, isn't it?"

As if on cue, a man charged into the box. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger, Harry thought), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.

"Everyone ready?" he said, his round face gleaming with a sheen of sweat. Despite his girth, it appeared he'd run up that horrendous amount of stairs. "Minister, are we ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said "_Sonorus!_" and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of advertisements and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

"This ought to be interesting," Mr. Malfoy observed, leaning forward in his seat. He sat back hurriedly. "Veela!"

"What are veel-?"

But a hundred veela were now gliding out onto the field, and Harry's question was answered for him. Veela were women, the most beautiful women Harry had ever seen, except that they weren't - they couldn't be - human. This puzzled Harry for a moment while he tried to guess what exactly they could be; what could make their skin shine moon-bright like that, or their white-gold hair fan out behind them without wind. But then the music started, and Harry stopped worrying about them not being human; in fact, he stopped worrying about anything at all.

The veela started to dance, and Harry's mind went completely and blissfully blank. All that mattered in the world was that he kept watching the veela, because if they stopped dancing, Terrible Things would happen.

And as the veela danced faster and faster, wild, half-formed thoughts started chasing through Harry's dazed mind. He wanted to do something very impressive, right now. Jumping from the box into the stadium seemed a good idea, but would it be good enough?

Sirius apparently didn't think so, because he grabbed onto Harry, pulled him down, and wrapped him in a very tight hug. Harry couldn't see the veela any more, and now Dire Things would happen. He struggled against Sirius for a moment, but then the music stopped. Harry blinked. What was going on?

He relaxed, and Sirius let him up. Next to him, Draco was frozen in an attitude that looked as though he were about to dive from a springboard. Angry yells were filling the stadium. The crowd didn't want the veela to go. Harry was with them; he would, of course, be supporting Bulgaria, and he wondered vaguely why he had a large green shamrock pinned to his chest. Draco, meanwhile, was absent-mindedly shredding his shamrocks. Mr. Malfoy, smiling slightly, leaned over and tugged the hat out of Draco's hands.

"You'll want that," he said, "once Ireland have had their say."

"Huh?" said Draco, staring open-mouthed at the veela, who had now lined up along one side of the field.

"And now," roared Ludo Bagman's voice, "kindly put your wands in the air for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd ooh'd and aah'd, as though at a fireworks display. Then the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it -

"Gold! It's gold!"

The shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Squinting up at the shamrock, Harry realized that it was actually comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green. Even a fool knew these were-

"Leprechauns!" said Mr. Malfoy over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging around under their chairs to retrieve the gold.

The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you Dimitrov!"

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

"Ivanova!"

A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.

"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand Krum!"

Draco, Harry, and Susan all followed Krum with their Omnioculars. Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.

"And now, please greet the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand Lynch!"

Seven green blurs swept onto the field; Harry spun a small dial on the side of his Omnioculars and slowed the players down enough to read the word Firebolt on each of their brooms and see their names, embroidered in silver, upon their backs. He dialled the speed back up before he could miss anything.

"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a furious growth of moustache, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the moustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other. Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open. Four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and (Harry saw it for the briefest moment, before it sped out of sight) the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

It was Quidditch as Harry had never seen it played before. He was pressing his Omnioculars so hard to his glasses that they were cutting into the bridge of his nose. The speed of the players was incredible. The Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names.

"TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten zero to Ireland!"

Harry knew enough about Quidditch to see that the Irish Chasers were superb. They worked as a seamless team, their movements so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another's minds as they positioned themselves, and the rosette on Harry's chest kept squeaking their names: "Troy - Mullet - Moran!" And within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the green-clad supporters.

The match became faster still, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria's first goal.

"Fingers in your ears!" Sirius exclaimed as the veela started to dance in celebration. Harry screwed up his eyes too; he wanted to keep his mind on the game. After a few seconds, he chanced a glance at the field. The veela had stopped dancing, and Bulgaria was again in possession of the Quaffle.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova - oh I say!" roared Bagman. One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the centre of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes. Harry followed their descent through his Omnioculars, squinting to see where the Snitch was.

"They're going to crash!" Susan screamed right in Harry's ear.

She was half right. At the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiralled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

"Fool!" moaned Draco. "Krum was feinting!"

"It's time-out!" yelled Bagman's voice, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!"

"He'll be okay, he only got ploughed!" Harry knew. It had happened to him before. "Which is what Krum was after, of course."

Harry hastily pressed the replay and play-by-play buttons on his Omnioculars, twiddled the speed dial, and put them back up to his eyes. He watched as Krum and Lynch dived again in slow motion. WRONSKI DEFENSIVE FEINT - DANGEROUS SEEKER DIVERSION read the shining purple lettering across his lenses. He saw Krum's face contorted with concentration as he pulled out of the dive just in time, while Lynch was flattened. Harry had never seen anyone fly like that; Krum hardly looked as though he was using a broomstick at all; he moved so easily through the air that he looked unsupported and weightless.

Harry turned his Omnioculars back to normal and focused them on Krum. He was now circling high above Lynch, who was being revived by mediwizards with cups of potion. Harry, focusing still more closely upon Krum's face, saw his dark eyes darting all over the ground a hundred feet below. He was using the time while Lynch was revived to look for the Snitch without interference.

Lynch got to his feet at last, to loud cheers from the green-clad supporters, mounted his Firebolt, and kicked back off into the air. His revival seemed to give Ireland new heart. When Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action with a skill unrivalled by anything Harry had seen so far.

After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals. They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier. As Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet her. Whatever happened was over so quickly Harry didn't catch it, but a scream of rage from the Irish crowd, and Mostafa's long, shrill whistle blast, told him it had been a foul.

"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing - excessive use of elbows!" Bagman informed the roaring spectators. "And - yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!"

The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, now darted together to form the words "HA, HA, HA!" The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance again.

As one, Draco and Harry stuffed their fingers into their ears, but Susan, who hadn't bothered, was soon tugging on Harry's arm. He turned to look at her, and she pulled his fingers impatiently out of his ears.

"Look at the referee!" she said, giggling.

Harry looked down at the field. Hassan Mostafa had landed right in front of the dancing veela, and was acting very oddly indeed. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his moustache excitedly.

"Now, we can't have that!" said Ludo Bagman, though he sounded highly amused. "Somebody slap the referee!"

A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself; Harry, watching through the Omnioculars again, saw that he looked exceptionally embarrassed and had started shouting at the veela, who had stopped dancing and were looking mutinous.

"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" said Bagman's voice. "Now there's something we haven't seen before. Oh this could turn nasty."

It did: The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words "HEE, HEE, HEE." Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarians' arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

"Two penalties for Ireland!" shouted Bagman, and the Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms. Yes, there they go, and Troy takes the Quaffle."

Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.

"Foul!" roared the Irish supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of green. "Foul!" echoed Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice. "Dimitrov skins Moran; deliberately flying to collide there, and it's got to be another penalty. Yes, there's the whistle!"

The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and this time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a very rude sign indeed at the veela across the field. At this, the veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns. Watching through his Omnioculars, Harry saw that they didn't look remotely beautiful now. On the contrary, their faces were elongating into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders.

"And that, boys," yelled Sirius over the tumult of the crowd below, "is why you should never go for looks alone!"

Ministry wizards were flooding onto the field to separate the veela and the leprechauns, but with little success; meanwhile, the pitched battle below was nothing to the one taking place above. Harry turned this way and that, staring through his Omnioculars, as the Quaffle changed hands with the speed of a bullet.

"Levski - Dimitrov - Moran - Troy - Mullet - Ivanova - Moran again - Moran - MORAN SCORES!"

But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from the Ministry members' wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians. The game recommenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov - The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face.

There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn't blow his whistle. He had become distracted, and Harry couldn't blame him; one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight.

Harry wanted someone to realize that Krum was injured; even though he was supporting Ireland, Krum was the most exciting player on the field. Draco obviously felt the same.

"Time-out! Come on, he can't play like that! Look at him!"

"Look at Lynch!" Harry yelled.

For the Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive, and Harry was quite sure that this was no Wronski Feint; this was the real thing.

"He's seen the Snitch!" Harry shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!" Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their Seeker on. But Krum was on his tail. How he could see where he was going, Harry had no idea; there were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again.

For the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela. Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.

The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match.

"KRUM GETS THE SNITCH! BUT IRELAND WINS! Good Lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

Susan leaned over to say in Harry's ear, "What did he do that for? Bulgaria didn't have enough points to win."

"Strategy," Harry replied. Ireland's Chasers were never going to let up. The score would have just gotten more and more ridiculous. Krum ended it before it could turn into a rout."

Flashbulbs were going off all around them. Harry put his Omnioculars to his eyes again. It was hard to see what was happening below because leprechauns were zooming delightedly all over the field, but he could just make out Krum, surrounded by mediwizards. He looked surlier than ever and refused to let them mop him up. His team members were around him, shaking their heads and looking dejected; a short way away, the Irish players were dancing gleefully in a shower of gold descending from their mascots.

Flags were waving all over the stadium, the Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking dispirited and forlorn.

"Vell, ve fought bravely," said a gloomy voice behind Harry. He looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.

"You can speak English!" said Fudge, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"

"Veil, it vos very funny," said the Bulgarian minister, shrugging.

"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honour, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" roared Bagman.

Harry's eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Squinting toward the entrance, he saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge, who was still looking very disgruntled that he'd been using sign language all day for nothing.

"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers - Bulgaria!" Bagman shouted.

And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; Harry could see thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in their direction.

One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch. Harry noticed that he seemed much less coordinated on the ground. He was slightly duck-footed and distinctly round-shouldered. But when Krum's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, ear-splitting roar.

And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval. Harry's hands were numb with clapping.

At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another lap of honour on their brooms (Aidan Lynch on the back of Connolly's, clutching hard around his waist and still grinning in a bemused sort of way), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, "_Quietus._"

"They'll be talking about this one for years," he said hoarsely, "A really unexpected twist, that. Shame it couldn't have lasted longer."

Harry whole-heartedly agreed. He looked around, feeling slightly stunned. The excitement was over, the match complete. The teams had come and gone. The crowd of people was starting to stream out of the arena like so many ants. Bagman hurried out of the booth once his duties were complete. Fudge led the Bulgarian Minister and the rest of his party out as well. Mr. Malfoy made as if to leave, but Sirius lounged back in his chair.

"It's going to be a mob down there," he said. "I'll wait until it dissipates a bit, thanks."

"You are correct, Sirius," Mr. Malfoy said agreeably, resuming his seat. "Quite a match, yes?"

Harry smiled to himself as Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy talked at Sirius about the phenomenal flying they'd just been witness to. Harry was thankful for their persistence. If they kept at it, surely Sirius' hard attitude would crack. Then things would be better.

"Harry, thanks for inviting me up here," Susan said. "It wouldn't have been nearly so much fun down in the other seats."

"My pleasure," Harry replied. "Quite a match, yeah?"

"What an ending."

"I'm sorry it had to end. Ireland was on fire out there."

"Thanks to the veela."

Harry shook his head. He didn't want to remember the veela. He didn't like the loss of control. If it hadn't been for Sirius, who knows what he might have done?

to be continued...


	7. The Dark Mark

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Seven - The Dark Mark**

"Harry! Harry, wake up!"

Sirius was shaking him. Harry came awake groggy and fuzzy.

"Get up. Get dressed. We've got to go. Now. Don't forget your wand, and bring your broom."

"What's going on?"

"Trouble."

Harry pulled on the dark green robe he'd been wearing last night. He strapped his wand holster to his belt and picked up his trusty Firebolt from the pillow he'd left it on. The diamond-hard polish reflected a gleam of light from the lamps as he exited the tent.

The celebrations were still going on. The Irish, it appeared, were still all riled up. But there was also another sound. Terrified screams came from the edge of the camp ground. Black smoke rose against the sky. By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire.

Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene. A small crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Harry squinted at them. They didn't seem to have faces. Then he realized that their heads were hooded and their faces masked. Tents crumpled and fell as the laughing wizards marched on. Once or twice Harry saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.

High above them, floating along in mid-air, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small. The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Harry recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the camp site manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers, and she struggled to cover herself up as the wizards screeched and hooted with glee.

"Stay close to me, Harry. Do you understand?"

Harry felt as though he were in a trance. Those were Death Eaters. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. They were still around, and they'd found some Muggles to torment. The smallest Muggle child began to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Death Eaters. And they'd come to him, practically marching up to his front door.

"So what's the plan? I figure I'll go in from the right, you'll cover me."

"Nice try, Harry. We are getting out of here. The Ministry will handle this."

Harry worried about that.

Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was coming ever closer.

"Time to go. Head for the trees."

They all looked back as they reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; they could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the centre, but they were having great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.

The coloured lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them in the cold night air.

Sirius wasted no time in urging Harry to continue on. They were forced to slow down as Sirius nearly tripped headlong over a tree root. The ground here was too uneven for running. They settled for a brisk walk.

"Harry? Is that you?"

"Draco?"

"Yeah."

Sirius turned sharply. "Where are your parents, Draco?"

"They went to go help."

"Help who? The Ministry or the Death Eaters?"

"The Ministry, of course, cousin. Father said something about having warned 'those damn fools' as he ran off. Mother told me to stay put and went after him, but the tent got trampled, and I was ejected from it. I followed the crowd out here."

There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything they had heard. Several people nearby screamed. Draco chuckled softly.

"Scare easily, don't they?" he said lazily.

"Enough of that talk," Sirius snapped. "There's deliberate terrorism being done down there to helpless people. They've done nothing to harm us, and have in fact helped put on this bit of sport we all enjoyed a few hours ago."

"They're only Muggles. Muggles have certainly done enough to wizards through the ages."

"These Muggles haven't!"

"Yeah, and the ones who have haven't done anything to me either, but they would. If they knew what I was, what we are, and what we can do, they wouldn't hesitate to burn me at the stake. I'm only a child, yet they would murder me in a fashion most horrific for the simple crime of having been born special."

Sirius looked ready to tear his hair out. Draco's argument was most cogent. If one paid attention in History of Magic class, as Harry did, one learned all about the witch hunts of the Muggles. Wizarding folk had lost many lives because of the fear Muggles placed on magic.

Draco wasn't done. "If you're equating death by burning with some old lady with her bloomers showing-"

"I'm not!" Sirius practically snarled. "But there is still such a thing as decency and respect. If, as you say, we're so superior to Muggles, shouldn't we act it? So we have abilities they don't. So what? I won't try to deny that there's a lot of ugly in Muggle society, but does that give us license to behave in kind? That is ignorant thinking!"

Draco's expression flashed from mild exasperation at the stupidity of an adult to profound contemplation. Harry knew his best mate thought himself _very_ superior. Sirius' words attacked his whole notion of what it truly meant to be better. Harry had seldom seem Draco with nothing to say, and watching him slowly process the argument was very interesting. Eventually he started nodding.

"Yeah, that's a good point, cousin." Draco said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual sly snark. "I hadn't thought of it that way. Just because they wrong us, it doesn't right the wrong if we do it back. Instead, it only compounds things."

"Eventually they'll get there," Sirius promised. "They've come a long way, but they're not there yet. Which is understandable," he said with a wink, "as they've had to do it without magic."

Draco chuckled at that. "Very well, cousin, you win."

"Oh good. I love winning."

There was a crashing in the darkness, and Harry heard a girl swearing as good as a boy. He grinned as Ginny Weasley limped into view. She had scratches on her face and tangles in her hair from a losing battle with a shrubbery.

"'Lo, Weasley," he called easily. "Looking good."

"Potter?"

"None other. Are you okay?"

"Near enough. Is that Malfoy?"

"He and Sirius are exchanging life lessons."

"Is he learning to not be a royal prat all the time?"

"No hope of that," Harry chuckled. "You all by yourself? Where are your brothers?"

"They went to help the Ministry. I didn't want to take one of them away babysitting me, so I bolted for the trees."

"Brave of you."

"They're the ones who're brave. They're running towards the trouble. I was running away."

Just then, something vast, green, and glittering erupted from from the treetops and into the sky. For a split second, Harry thought it was another leprechaun formation. Then he realized that it was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

Suddenly, the wood all around them erupted with screams. Harry didn't understand why, but the only possible cause was the sudden appearance of the skull, which had now risen high enough to illuminate the entire wood like some grisly neon sign.

"The Dark Mark!" Sirius gasped, drawing his wand. Harry did likewise. Draco looked panicked and pointed his wand in every direction. Ginny paled, but she armed herself as well.

Harry bit his lip. The Dark Mark was Voldemort's symbol, used to terrorize the country fourteen years ago. It meant death, destruction, and evil. Seeing it in a book hadn't conveyed the awful feeling it raised deep in his gut. He tore his eyes from the sky and peered into the forest around them. He saw nothing. Aside from the terrified sobs of a few witches and wizards who had been overcome, all was quiet.

Sirius cast Harry a quick, appraising glance. "Definitely qualifies as an emergency," he muttered. Then his eyes flashed to Draco. "Never manage the both. Don't dare leave you behind either. Where'd she come from?" He spoke up, his voice sharp and commanding. "Stay close, children. Do nothing unless I say so. It could mean your lives. Find some cover. Now."

Harry and Sirius put their backs to a pair of close-standing oak trees. Draco threw himself to the ground behind a rocky outcropping that was only about waist-high. Harry didn't see where Ginny concealed herself. Sirius peeked around the curve of the tree in the direction the Dark Mark had been fired from. All was still quiet.

Harry's heart was thumping in his chest from all the adrenaline coursing through his veins. In the dimness of the night forest, his other senses were sharper to compensate. Insect noises gradually returned as Harry's pulse slowed.

"Sirius," he whispered. "I think it's over."

"You may be right. But it's better to be ready."

Several minutes later, during which Sirius still refused to put his wand away, an announcement was made by Ministry officials that out-going Portkeys were being activated. People gradually filtered back to the ruined camp site and salvaged what they could. In a limping, stuttering manner, the attendees of the Quidditch World Cup headed home with a tale that they would never forget.

**SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!**

by Rita Skeeter

By now, we've almost come to expect colossal blunders from the Ministry of Magic as par for the course. Consider how pleasantly surprised we all are when the Ministry manages to do something correctly. You remember how it was that one time. Don't you? Oh, you don't. Well, that's okay. How many punchlines to how many jokes involve the Ministry's incompetence in some way? Not enough, perhaps, to have prepared us for the Ministry's embarrassing conduct during the terrorist attack at the Quidditch World Cup.

Somehow not a single one of the culprits was apprehended. It's positively disgusting that our government established such lax and flimsy security protocols for the most high-profile event in many years. Half the world was there while we had Dark wizards running around unchecked. Thanks to an ineffective Ministry plan, instead of showing the world our panache, we have a national disgrace to deal with.

If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumours that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen.

A twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops rounded out the article nicely. Harry and Sirius were reading their separate papers over breakfast. It would more properly be called lunch, but after the late night they'd had, Harry had been just as glad to lie in.

"Gamey bastards," Harry complained bitterly, meaning the Death Eaters. "Why'd they have to go and ruin everyone's good time?"

"No normal sense of a good time, I'm afraid."

"Quidditch is a wizarding sport. I thought they were all about the superiority of pureblood wizards. Why would they cause trouble?"

"Because they could," Sirius snorted. "And they did, with no consequences."

"Someone ought to do something about them."

"The only Death Eaters not locked up in Azkaban were cleared of all wrongdoing by the Ministry. There was doubtless a lot of 'donations' to help rebuild after the war, and everything was swept under the carpet." Sirius' tone left little doubt as to what he thought about such back room dealings.

"But what if we knew who was involved last night?"

"But we don't."

Harry shook his head. "Yes, we do. One person, at least. Weren't you listening when Draco said that his father said he warned them?"

"I'm sure he knows everyone who was wearing a mask last night, but Lucius will never give up his confederates, even if he wasn't joining in."

"I don't think he was," Harry tried to persuade. "I was there when he warned a man he called Selwyn. Draco and I got into camp just as the conversation was ending, but Mister Malfoy told this Selwyn to go back to his mistress. Selwyn told him to loosen up a little and then Disapparated."

Sirius' face grew shrewd. "Selwyn, eh? Well, I reckon I should drop a few people an owl and see what kinds of trouble I can cause for the unfortunate Mister Selwyn. I'm very good at causing people trouble."

"Do it," Harry urged. "If he really was wearing a mask last night, I want him to pay. He's a criminal, and he's been living free all this time. It's not right!"

With this encouragement, Sirius went to the drawing room to write his letters. Harry headed up to his room. He reached into his trunk, which he'd left at the foot of his bed, and pulled out a box of owl treats.

"Hey Regal!"

Harry's eagle owl was sleeping on the ironwood owl perch that Harry had received a few weeks ago from Tim for his birthday. He peeked one eye out from under his wing. He spied the treat and immediately stretched to his full height. He hooted softly and clapped his beak several times. He lifted up his feet one at a time, almost doing a little dance.

"Sirius has a lot of letters he's going to need delivered. I know I can trust you to make sure they all get there quickly. It's really important stuff, I promise."

Regal seemed to almost be quivering with excitement. Harry realized that he hadn't sent a letter to anyone in almost a week. _Poor bird probably thought I was neglecting him._

"This treat is for now, and I'll make you loads of bacon when you get back."

Regal disposed of the treat in three quick crunches, nearly getting a bit of Harry's finger in the process. He then shook himself vigorously and jumped off of his perch. With loud flapping of the wings, he exited the bedroom and flew down the central shaft to the drawing room.

Harry picked up his workout bag and headed to the second floor weight room. He placed his favourite Wand Smasher album (Fireworks By Night) in the crystal slot and began performing his stretches. He started with a vigorous fifty sit-ups, fixing his feet to the floor with a Sticking Charm.

He was in the middle of a set of push-ups when Sirius arrived, looking quite pleased with himself. He began to stretch and calmly said, "I don't think there will be any more worries about Mister Selwyn. I made an anonymous tip to the Aurors, and I've sent a personal note to Director Bones that will self-combust once she's read it. They'll get him. He won't get away again."

"Good." Harry was pleased. "How soon will he go to trial?"

"Knowing Ministry bureaucracy, who can say? But he will be tried, at least." Sirius sounded very bitter, and Harry could fully appreciate his feelings. No amount of gold could replace the time he'd lost or the scars he'd been given.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Harry said, stopping his push-ups and resting on his knees.

Sirius shook his head strongly. "I'd go back tomorrow if it would protect you, Harry."

"You won't ever have to," Harry promised. "I don't think I could live with myself if you got hurt because of me."

Sirius didn't respond at first. "James said the same thing when we first conceived of Fidelius. He wouldn't have it, he said. He wouldn't ask another to become Voldemort's target. What he didn't understand was that I wasn't waiting to be asked. My best bloody friend in the whole bloody world was marked for death, and he wasn't going to ask me to be Secret Keeper. I had to bully him in to it, you know."

"How'd you do that?"

"I played dirty and told your mother the idea."

"How very sneaky of you." It was almost Slytherin.

"I thought so. Well she wasn't fond of it either, but she was worried about you. She could duel with the best, but a baby in your arms makes for lousy dodging, so she eventually decided to go into hiding. I almost think James would have been Secret Keeper for just the pair of you, but Lily put her foot down. James wasn't going to risk his life if she couldn't risk hers. He turned right to me with the most anguished look I've ever seen and said, 'Padfoot, you're the truest friend a wizard could ask for. I need your help. Will you keep our Secret?'"

"I agreed, of course. I had to protect my godson, after all." Sirius smiled. "Later, when we realized the target I would become, we brought Wormtail into things. Moony, I'm disgusted to say, we thought was a spy."

"We all make mistakes, Sirius," Harry said consolingly. "You did what you thought was right. I couldn't ask for more than that. Nobody is right all the time."

"Not even Slytherins?" Sirius asked slyly.

Harry groaned, but inwardly he sighed in relief. "No, not even Slytherins," he replied, glad Sirius could make a small joke.

"Thank you, Harry. I appreciate that. Now, are you ready for your lesson?"

"Am I ever."

"Now then, usually the best a wizard can do is transfigure a part of their body for a particular purpose."

"Like giving myself a forked tongue."

"Well, I suggest you start with a bit you think you might be able to spare, should things go wrong. Perhaps your left hand, or a foot?"

"Get on with it," Harry ordered with grin.

"You could give yourself claws if you needed to climb a tree, for example. Now these transformations are not permanent. They require intense concentration and control in order to maintain. A certain few very powerful wizards have been able to achieve a full-body transfiguration, and use the form for a short time, but the effort strained them greatly. The Animagus transformation is different in that you don't need to hold yourself in the form. It feels perfectly natural."

"How do I change back?"

"We'll get to that. Also remember that your human mind will still be controlling the musculature. You're not going to know how to fly, for example, if you tried to turn your arms into wings. You'd have to figure it out the same way a bird does. I don't recommend it. They get dropped from their nests."

"So I'm actually going to change my body, not just stretch?"

"You are indeed. Give yourself chicken legs."

"What? That's ridiculous!"

"That's the whole point. If anyone ever caught us, we could just explain it away as a prank. Chicken legs, Harry."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Harry imagined a pair of clawed chicken feet. The nails scratched the ground. Three toes in front, one toe in back. Chicken.

"Come in!" Harry said to the knock on his door.

"How goes the packing?" Sirius asked, surveying the piles of clothing.

"Miserably. The trunk is just too small. I'm trying to figure out what to leave here. It's hard. I've never had stuff to leave behind before. I wouldn't have wanted to, either."

Sirius studied the trunk with an appraising eye. "I think this thing is too shabby to accept the spells. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Upstairs."

Sirius dragged a square black trunk out from under his bed and began to empty it out on to the floor, which was very clean.

"My parents bought me this trunk when I got my Hogwarts letter. It's much bigger inside than out."

"Wicked," was all Harry could say.

The first compartment had robes of all colours and styles. These hung themselves neatly in the closet with a wave of Sirius' wand. He closed the trunk, tapped it twice, and opened it to reveal very untidy stacks of books.

"My school things. There's nothing in there you'll want, I wager."

"Hold on! I'll take the books. Even if I have them already, I know a girl who doesn't have a lot of money. Even one book would help." Harry felt a bit of responsibility towards Ginny Weasley. He'd told her older brother Percy that he'd make sure she had a home in Slytherin.

"That's awfully decent of you," Sirius declared.

The third compartment was empty. Sirius showed Harry how to switch from one compartment to the next with a series of taps. He also showed Harry the key to the Locking Hexes.

"Thanks, Sirius." Harry was very appreciative of this present.

"You don't have to be afraid to leave stuff here, though," Sirius told him. "This is your home now."

"I know. And I will leave some things. But even what I'm taking wouldn't fit in the old trunk."

"You might remember that the third compartment is good for hiding evidence, should a prank go horribly wrong."

"Duly noted," Harry laughed.

"Need some help packing?"

"I'd like that."

Harry's belongings fit quite tidily into the two main compartments. Harry stored his Firebolt and Quidditch supplies in the last space. Sirius then took the opportunity to show Harry a Shrinking Charm, which frustrated Harry for nearly three hours before he got it right. The reversal took nearly a whole day.

When 1 September came, Harry shrank his trunk and donned his helmet with excitement. Sirius brought the motorbike to life with a roar that split the air. Harry climbed on and whooped with delight as they sped away.

The ride to King's Cross was over far too quickly. Harry climbed off regretfully, and Sirius locked down the motorbike. Casually, Harry walked with Sirius towards the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Sirius put his arm around Harry, turned, and stepped back into the illusory wall.

Harry had always closed his eyes when passing through the barrier. The short tunnel was a cascade of purple light, and a picture of the station hung in the air, and ahead of them was Platform & 3/4.

"Too tally," Harry breathed with awe.

On the platform, Sirius restored Harry's trunk.

"I'll send Regal up this evening. Thanks again for the loan."

"No problem. Bye, Sirius." Before he could let his nervousness stop him, he reached out and grabbed Sirius in a quick hug. Sirius was startled, but he relaxed instantly and squeezed Harry right back. It felt so good, Harry didn't want to let go, but they were on a public platform, and he was not about to make a scene.

Manfully clearing his throat, Harry lifted his trunk and boarded the train. He pushed it down the cars of the Hogwarts Express, looking for some of his friends. Pansy had claimed a compartment towards the front of the train, and Harry stashed his trunk in the adjacent empty compartment before joining her.

"Hey, Pansy."

"Good morning, Harry. Was that a new trunk?"

"Very good eyes."

"And pretty?" she demanded.

"And pretty."

"How come Draco doesn't tell me so more often?"

"He should."

Pansy giggled. "You're so sweet, Harry. I can see why Blaise won't give up on you."

"I wish she'd stop already. Do you know how many times I turned down a date?"

"Yes," Pansy said bluntly. "She wrote reams about each one to me. It was a huge waste of ink and parchment, honestly. I told her to give it up after three letters. Sorry I couldn't help."

Draco picked that moment to walk in. "Pansy, Lady of the Raven Hair." She reached out her hand, and he kissed the back of it.

"Draco, my champion."

"Hey, mate."

"Harry. Not a word about you know what."

Harry nodded. "Right."

"What?" Pansy asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Draco said.

"Draco," she warned.

"Pansy?" he sassed back.

"What are you talking about?"

"I didn't say a word about anything."

"Malfoy!"

"That's the name. Yours too, if our parents have their way."

"Right now, that's disgusting. Talk to me, you git!"

"I'll give you a talking to," Draco answered menacingly. "I'll talk at you in Latin."

"Not if I stitch your mouth shut. I've been schooled in all manner of household charms."

Draco mulled that thought over, and when he spoke again, his tone was more respectful. "Pansy, I cannot tell you what I was referring to. I promised my father."

Pansy frowned at Draco, but she didn't push any further. She proceeded to talk to Harry and ignore her boyfriend as he sat down next to her. She went back to the topic of Blaise.

"I don't know what to tell you about Blaise. I'll keep trying to talk to her, and Millie thinks boys are icky like that, so she'll help too. Maybe Jenna as well."

"Thanks, Pansy. Do you think it would help if I started fancying someone?"

"Hard to say. She might see that as a challenge."

Any further discussion was aborted, for Blaise arrived at that moment. She levitated her trunk up on to the rack and sat down next to Harry.

_Why?_

"Hi, Harry! Hi, Pansy! Malfoy."

"Still irked at me, eh Zabini?"

She sniffed haughtily and turned away.

"So as I was saying," Pansy said, "I wonder who the new Professor will be for Defence."

"Father says it's old Mad-Eye Moody."

"The Auror?"

"The same," Draco confirmed. "Looks like Dumbledore found another good teacher. I'm impressed, given the curse on it."

"It certainly does seem real," Harry agreed. None of their teachers in this subject had yet lasted a full year.

The rest of the gang filed in to the compartment just then, and they all hung out the window to wave goodbye to parents and godfathers as the train departed the station.

to be continued...


	8. Announcements and Other Terrible Ways to

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Eight - Announcements and Other Terrible Ways To Die**

_A thousand years or more ago,  
When I was newly sewn,  
There lived four wizards of renown,  
Whose names are still well known:  
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,  
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,  
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,  
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.  
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,  
They hatched a daring plan  
To educate young sorcerers  
Thus Hogwarts School began.  
Now each of these four founders  
Formed their own house, for each  
Did value different virtues  
In the ones they had to teach.  
By Gryffindor, the bravest were  
Prized far beyond the rest;  
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest  
Would always be the best;  
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were  
Most worthy of admission;  
And power-hungry Slytherin  
Loved those of great ambition.  
While still alive they did divide  
Their favourites from the throng,  
Yet how to pick the worthy ones  
When they were dead and gone?  
'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,  
He whipped me off his head  
The founders put some brains in me  
So I could choose instead!  
Now slip me snug about your ears,  
I've never yet been wrong,  
I'll have a look inside your mind  
And tell where you belong!_

The Sorting Hat finished its song to thunderous applause from the student body. Harry tried not to think about his empty stomach and how all he'd filled it with were Chocolate Frogs and Sugar Quills. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. His hopes of a quick Sorting were dashed as he looked at the throng of first year students who stood dripping at the front of the Great Hall.

The sky was pouring out buckets of rain, but that hadn't stopped Peeves the Poltergeist from pelting arriving students with water balloons. Harry nudged Draco and motioned towards the Gryffindor table where Ron Weasley was wringing out his hat.

"Think he's going to count this as his yearly bath?" Draco snickered.

"We should send him some soap."

Professor McGonagall brought out her scroll of names and announced, "Christine Abbott!"

Hannah's cousin looked a bit nervous at being the first name called, but she walked steadily up to the stool and pulled on the Sorting Hat.

"Hufflepuff!" the Hat called confidently.

The Hufflepuff table burst into applause. Hannah stood up as the younger girl approached the table and gave her a big hug. Susan Bones, who was sitting with her best friend, leaned over and joined in the hug. Harry grinned at them and flashed a thumbs up in congratulations.

"Stewart Ackerly!" "Ravenclaw!"

Slytherin cheered loudly as the next three firsties, Malcolm Baddock, Francis Bateman, and Lila Elizabeth Boot joined their table. At the Ravenclaw table, Terry Boot was shaking his head, doubtless at another cousin bucking the family trend. Harry leaned over and shouted "Hello!" in her ear as the next student was announced.

"Leonard Bowyer!" was declared a Gryffindor.

Hufflepuff whooped and pounded the tables as the Sorting Hat sentenced Eleanor Branstone, Burt Butler, and Owen Cauldwell to forever wear yellow and black.

The Sorting continued, with Gryffindor and Slytherin taking turns with Abbey Cook, Gavin Corcoran, Dennis Creevey, and Jasper Davies. Hufflepuff snared Libbi Den and Valerie Dixon.

"Emma Dobbs!" "Slytherin!"

"Rosalie Dyer!" "Gryffindor!"

"Matilda Edgecombe!"

Nearby at the Ravenclaw table, one of the fifth year girls suddenly perked up. "That's my cousin," Harry heard her say. "Get ready to cheer, girls."

"Slytherin!"

"No!" came a strangled gasp. "It can't be!"

Harry was about to say something nasty, but Cho Chang, whom Harry knew from Quidditch, hushed her friend. "They're right _there_, Marietta! They'll hear you."

"So?"

"They're evil! Everyone knows it. It was the Heir of _Slytherin_ turning people to stone two years ago, remember? Penny was one of the victims. It's only luck she wasn't killed like that poor Hufflepuff girl."

Anything Harry might have wanted to say would have been lost as the Ravenclaw table applauded Petra Finch. Then nobody could hear anything as Gryffindor gained three more in a row: Carli Guard, Tenney Harker, and Gailord Healy.

He quietly fumed through the Sorting of Pam Johnson (Ravenclaw), Chelsea Larrow (Hufflepuff), and Anna Lawford (Gryffindor), only putting his dark thoughts away to applaud as Ackley Loxton sat down with the Slytherins.

Chang sure had a lot of nerve to talk about his House like that. The way she'd spoken, it seemed she might have been describing a potion that hadn't coalesced properly. Apparently reading all those books had made the Ravenclaw nerd a bit near-sighted, he thought viciously. Pretty or not, she'd been tricked by snow glare twice during last year's Quidditch Cup.

And while he was at it, Harry spared a dark thought for Tom Riddle, who had besmirched Slytherin's good name. Claiming to be descended from Slytherin, he'd terrorized the school twice: once in his fifth year, once in Harry's second year. Harry had confronted Riddle and destroyed the evil phantom, claiming the mantle of Heir of Slytherin for himself in the process. Only a few people knew the truth of that affair, though.

When "Rachel Moon" was announced, Harry threw Jenna an inquisitive glance.

"My cousin," she confirmed with a nod. "Distant cousin. She's from the west end of Wales."

"Slytherin!"

Harry shook hands with Rachel, and also with Brenda Moor, Enid Morello, and Pippa Murdock, who were all sorted to Slytherin as well. Harry felt a bit like he was in a reception line. The four girls immediately started giggling, at what Harry was pretty sure was him.

Ravenclaw then claimed three more: Nico Napier, Ember Norris, and Ramsey Orme.

Harry's stomach was rumbling almost non-stop now. Harry wished they at least had some bread to cut the hunger with. Crabbe and Goyle were both sitting with arms crossed over their stomachs as if to contain the gurgling roars they were both producing.

"Kid Parson!" "Gryffindor!"

"Graham Pritchard!" "Slytherin!"

"Orla Quirke!" "Ravenclaw!"

"Jacob Rassledow!" "Slytherin!"

"Well done," Tim congratulated the younger boy as he sat down. Tim hadn't been very social during the Sorting, but he'd paid attention for this boy. "Second cousin," he said in response to Harry's inquisitive look.

"Demelza Robins!" "Gryffindor!"

Slytherin cheered as they claimed Ellen Rookwood and Eugene Sawyer both.

"Frederick Sheridan!" "Gryffindor!"

"No surprise there," Draco whispered to Harry.

"Yah, whole family is in Gryffindor, right?"

The next three boys were all sent to Hufflepuff: Zacharias Smith, Ken Smithson, and Francis Stopps. Ravenclaw claimed Trent Urquhart, and Hufflepuff came back with Cararacus Volp, a very tiny girl with shoulder-length black hair.

When Vivian Walton had been Sorted to Gryffindor, Harry leaned over to Draco. "Is it me or are there more first years than normal?"

"There do seem to be rather a lot of them."

There were so many, in fact, that Harry's attention wavered, and he only noted the new Slytherins, Winifred Warrington and Leonard Yader.

As Yader sat down, Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome. "I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

When the puddings, too, had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

"Mister Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mister Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"What? Inconceivable!" Harry gasped. They couldn't cancel Quidditch! He looked down the table to Bletchley, Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, who sat with a gaping mouth. Bole and Derrick, the seventh year Beaters, weren't much better. The three Chasers, sixth years all, seemed equally horrified.

Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy, but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black travelling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swivelled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark grey hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling, throwing the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Harry had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye, and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Harry couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark grey hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students chapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

"Mad-Eye Moody? The Auror?" Pansy asked quietly. She sounded afraid.

"The same," Tim whispered back. "There's no mistaking that face."

Harry, for his part, couldn't stop staring. What could have happened to him to cause so much damage? Why hadn't Healers fixed him?

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his travelling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Harry saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" came a shout from the Gryffindor table.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am not joking, Mister Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er, but maybe this is not the time. No?" said Dumbledore. "Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament. Well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities. That is, until, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Death toll?" Jenna whispered, looking alarmed. "I never knew anyone died."

"Everyone knows that," Blaise hissed back.

But Jenna's anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

The announcement of the prize set students at every House table to whispering and plotting. Nearly every Slytherin was tantalized at the prospect of such glory and riches. They were those who valued ambition, after all. Harry was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This," Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion. I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

Miles Bletchley and Heather Chandler, the sixth year prefects had a small mob of first years each to look after. Harry and the others followed the throng down to the dungeons. The password was given as "Quidditch champions", which Slytherin had been for the past ten years. The blank stone wall that concealed the entrance to the common room slid back. The firsties were quickly tucked away in bed, but all other Slytherins lingered to discuss the exciting news.

Harry sat down in a chair next to the fire. Draco, Pansy, Jenna, and a handful of the now third years joined them. Harry knew Laine and Lucas Slater, Ginny Weasley, Michelle Holt, and Millie's little brother Arcen, but he'd never said much to Goodwinter aside from the occasional hello.

Bole, one of the seventh years, called for attention. "My fellow Slytherins, I am Ivan Bole, and you know me as the Right Arm. I've served you well on the Quidditch pitch, now I ask for your support when I enter the tournament."

Not to be outdone, Derrick shouldered Bole aside. "They all know the team is left-handed, and I'm the Left Arm! Matthew Derrick here, proud to be your Hogwarts champion!"

The antics of the two Beaters were always amusing, but Harry was astounded when Higgs stood up as well. "I may not be on the team any more, but I _am_ damn fast on a broom. Better, I'm a prefect. I'm going to be Hogwarts champion and win all the glory for Slytherin House!"

Slytherin House had an abundance of pride, and any occasion was a good one for a resounding shout of "Up Slytherin!", including the former Seeker's rally cry.

"I could never put myself through that," Lila Murdock declared. "I wish you boys all the luck. What about you, Ellen?"

A second seventh year girl shook her head. "No way. I wouldn't last ten minutes. Ten minutes is a long time. Am I right, Maggie?"

Margaret Rosier jumped slightly. "What? Oh, absolutely. No way." But there was something about her denial that seemed a bit off.

"Laine, your father is a historian," Michelle said. "Tell us about some of the old tournaments."

"Well," Laine said with relish, "I've always been fond of the Tournament of Ladies, where all three champions were of the fairer sex. It was _quite_ the sensation."

"I imagine," Pansy agreed. "Good for them, though."

"Let's see, the Tournament of Mudbloods, in one-ought ninety-nine, then there was the Tournament of Lords five years later, where all the champions were of noble blood."

"Thoroughly rinsed in scandal, that one," Draco said knowingly. "Probably in response to the prior tourney."

"Naturally," Lucas cut in. "Then there's the more deliberately themed contests. The Tournament Held Underwater, the Tournament Held In The Sky, and the Tournament Held Underground remain the most distinguished in the history of the Triwizard competition."

"Not the most notorious, though," Laine added. "The Tournament With No Winner has that distinction. All three champions died while trying to complete the last task."

"How awful," Ginny said, making a face. "I hope that doesn't happen this year. What was the task?"

"Armed only with a wand, cross a dragon preserve on foot."

"By Merlin's walking stick, that's impossible!" Michelle gasped.

"We know, Holt," Jenna said dryly. "That's why there was no winner."

Michelle glared daggers at Jenna, but Jenna smirked at the others in triumph. Harry cleared his throat to avoid snickering. It _was_ rather funny.

"My great-great-great-grandfather competed in the Tournament Across Europe," Arcen contributed. "The tasks were held at all three schools. One of the trials was a broom race from Hogwarts to Beauxbatons."

"I'd love to see a broom race this year," Draco said wistfully. "I can't believe they cancelled Quidditch. I must tell my father immediately."

"Your father probably already knows, Draco," Pansy told him with a hint of exasperation. "He _is_ on the board of governors, isn't he? This was the secret he swore you to, right?"

"Yes and yes. But it doesn't explain why they had to call off Quidditch."

"It won't be all bad," Harry said, trying to stay positive. The loss of Quidditch had hit him hard, but he could use the extra time for his studies. He had felt rather thin last year, though the added stress of thinking about Sirius Black had doubtless contributed. He could use a year off to rest. "It'll be nice to sit back and watch someone else compete for a change."

"Argh!" Tim shouted, clearly frustrated. "By Merlin's worn-out sandals, why do they have to be such beasts? No under-age wizards can enter? Ridiculous! If they're not the most qualified from their school, why would they be picked?"

"A little sore, is he?" Arcen inquired.

"Shut up, Arse."

"Don't tell me to shut up. This is the common room, and anyone can say anything here."

"You're being obnoxious."

"You're being a jackass."

Tim was clearly stunned that a third year was mouthing back at him. Arcen looked quite smug at having silenced Tim, even for a moment.

"Excuse me. I'm going to go ask Millie how badly I can hex you." Tim stood and stalked toward the girls' dormitory. As soon as he was gone, Draco burst out laughing.

"Nice one, Arse. I wonder what's got him so cross?"

"Who cares?" Pansy asked rhetorically. "He's growing rather tiresome."

"Maybe he's just tired," Michelle suggested. "I know I'm about ready to turn in."

"I agree," Harry said, stifling a yawn.

Harry's intention to rise to his feet and point his toes towards bed was interrupted by the arrival of Professor Snape in the common room. The Potions Master was an imposing figure with his hooked nose and stern face. Only here in the Slytherin common room had Harry ever seen Snape relax his demeanour a bit.

"Prefects, attend to me." Snape's arrival had quieted the room, and his voice carried well. All six prefects rose and went to sit at a far table. Snape engaged them in small talk for several minutes before passing each of them a few sheafs of parchments. Harry knew those must be the class schedules.

"I wonder what we have tomorrow," he wondered aloud.

"I hope it's Defence," Draco said. "I want to see what the Mad-Eye's got on Lupin."

"Wanna make a bet on it?" Arcen asked.

"No way. Didn't Millie tell you we spent hours with Lupin this summer?"

"She did."

"He can talk at length about any topic you'd care to discuss. He's a positive sink of knowledge. Not all book learning, know what I mean?"

"So why not take the bet on him?"

"I know Mad-Eye's reputation. He's old but crazy. Who knows _what_ he has in store for us?"

Higgs came over to their table and handed over the schedules. Harry quickly scanned to the Friday list and cheered. They had Defence right after lunch.

"Excellent," Draco said, sounding very pleased as well.

"Aww, we don't have him until _Wednesday_," Lucas complained.

"Chin up, brother mine," Laine replied positively. "Harry will tell us all about it. Right, Harry?" She beamed brilliantly at him.

Harry grinned. "Sure."

"Well, there's really no need for us to remain any longer," Draco said, rising to his feet. "Good night, all. See you at breakfast."

Everyone else agreed that Draco's idea was a good one and headed for the dorms as well. Harry pulled back the curtains on his four poster bed, placed his glasses on the bedside table, and lay down. He yawned freely and huddled under the warm sheets.

_I wonder how Sirius is_, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

to be continued...


	9. The ExAuror and The Imperius Curse

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Nine - The Ex-Auror and The Imperius Curse**

Word travelled quickly through the school that Professor Moody had ambushed the N.E.W.T. Defence class at their first meeting. He had burst into the classroom after the bell and caught the whole lot of them with a Binding Hex.

"And then he stood over us and _laughed_, he did," Terrence Higgs, the seventh-year prefect complained at the lunch table. "Taunted us. Said if he'd been a Death Eater, we'd all be dead. Panning opens her yap and says that they wouldn't be sitting and waiting for a Death Eater. Moody gets right in her face and screams 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!' She passed right out."

"Wow," Harry said, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Intense."

Pansy seemed to find the tale distasteful. "How dreadfully vulgar."

"It gets better," Higgs said. "Then he goes and takes ten points for 'weakness unbecoming a Gryffindor'."

Tim laughed rudely. "I think I might like our new Professor."

"I hope he doesn't do the same to us," Blaise worried. "We've got him next lesson."

"Good luck," Higgs wished them, and he moved down the table to sit next to Ellen Pritchard.

The fourth years hurried into chairs right in front of the professor's desk, took out their copies of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_, and waited, unusually quiet. Soon they heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as when they'd first seen him. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.

"You can put those away," he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down. "Those books; you won't need them."

They did as instructed, exchanging excited glances. A real lesson!

Professor Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled grey hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swivelled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.

"Right then," he said, when the last person had declared herself present, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures. You've covered Boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"But you're behind - very behind - on dealing with curses," said Moody. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what nasty sorts of things wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark forces. I'm staying just the one year as a special favour to Dumbledore. One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."

He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

"So, straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you counter-curses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore thinks you're made of sterner stuff. He reckons you can cope, and I say the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful."

No one dared to breathe. Moody had the same gift as McGonagall and Snape; they could all keep a class silent without effort.

"So, do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Tim's hand was instantly in the air, as was Draco's. Moody pointed at Draco. "Malfoy?"

"The Imperius Curse."

"Ah, yes," said Moody sharply. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."

Draco was biting his lip. "Yes, my father was placed under the Imperius Curse during the last war."

"Of course." By his tone, Moody didn't believe a word of it. Harry knew better too.

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, "_Imperio!_"

The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.

Everyone was laughing - everyone except Moody.

"Think it's funny, do you?" he growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"

The laughter died away almost instantly.

"Total control," said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats. Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse," said Moody, and Harry knew he was talking about the days in which Voldemort had been all-powerful. "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will. The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone jumped.

Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar. Turning back to the class at large, he asked, "Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"

Tim's hand went back into the air. "Cruciatus."

Professor Moody reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

"The Cruciatus Curse," said Moody. "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea," he said, pointing his wand at the spider. "_Engorgio!_"

The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, "_Crucio!_"

At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but Harry was sure that if it could have given voice, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently. Moody raised his wand. The spider's legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.

"_Reducio_," Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.

"Pain," said Moody softly. "You don't need knives or the rack to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. That one was very popular once too.

"Right. Anyone know any others?"

Harry looked around. From the looks on everyone's faces, he guessed they were all wondering what was going to happen to the last spider. He tentatively raised his own hand. Moody's eye fixed on him. "Yes?"

"The Killing Curse." Harry's words were flat.

"Ah," said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. "Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra."

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody's fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.

Moody raised his wand, and Harry felt a sudden thrill of foreboding.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Moody roared.

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air. Instantaneously, the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries.

Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.

"Not nice," he said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no counter-curse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me."

Harry resolutely kept his face impassive as Moody's eyes (both of them) looked into his own. He could feel everyone else looking around at him too. Harry stared at the blank blackboard as though fascinated by it, but not really seeing it at all.

So that was how his parents had died: exactly like that spider. Had they been unblemished and unmarked too? Had they simply seen the flash of green light and heard the rush of speeding death, before life was wiped from their bodies?

Harry had been picturing his parents' deaths over and over again for three years now, ever since he'd found out they had been murdered, ever since he'd found out what had happened that night. He knew the intimate details because he had heard his parents' voices when he had fought the dementors last year. It had haunted his dreams.

Moody was speaking again, from a great distance, it seemed to Harry. With a massive effort, he pulled himself back to the present and listened to what Moody was saying.

"Avada Kedavra's a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it. You could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it.

"Now, if there's no counter-curse, why am I showing you? Because you've got to know. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and the whole class jumped again.

"Now those three curses - Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus - are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills. Copy this down."

They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang, but when Moody had dismissed them, a torrent of talk burst forth as they left the classroom. The curses were the sole topic of conversation.

Moody turned his magical eye upon Harry as he walked by the desk. "You all right, are you, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry, almost defiantly.

Moody's blue eye quivered slightly in its socket as it surveyed Harry. Then he said, "You've got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you've got to know. No point pretending it's not going to happen. Better to be prepared. Constant vigilance. Constant. Get to your class now."

The girls had gone ahead to the Astronomy Tower, but the lads were waiting for him outside. As they cut through the Charms corridor, they encountered Weasley, Finnigan, and Thomas. Harry groaned when he saw the scowl on Weasley's face. That expression usually meant a fight was brewing.

"Ignore him," Draco said loudly as they walked by. "They're not worth noticing."

Harry cracked a smile, but he heard sharp inhalations from the Gryffindors.

"Tell me, Malfoy, were you and your parents part of that crowd of Death Eaters at the World Cup, or did they leave you in the care of the house elves?"

Draco stopped in his tracks. He slowly turned, hatred blazing coldly in his pale grey eyes. "I didn't have time to go play with Muggles, Weasley. I was in the woods with your sister," he insinuated with a forced drawl.

Weasley turned red faster than Harry had ever seen him, and he threw down his bag furiously. He was about to launch himself at Draco when Finnigan and Thomas caught his arms.

"Let me go! Slytherin _slime_, I'll rip your lying tongue out!"

"It's true," Draco smirked. "She sure did look pretty in the moon light."

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"Ron, calm down!" Finnigan yelled. "He's just winding you up!"

Weasley drew himself up, as if to make a great lunge, but instead he stood up straight. He appeared suddenly calm, and he appeared to have had a thought. He smirked, his long nose giving him a sinister look. "You can't hide forever. One day you'll slip, and everyone will find out what scummy, in-bred, Dark-loving pigs you are. Maybe you'll be lucky and they'll give you the cell next to your dear auntie."

Draco sputtered, made speechless at Weasley's cutting words. The red-haired boy laughed mockingly, picked up his bag, and turned to walk away. "Let's go," he said to Thomas and Finnigan. "We're going to be late for Transfiguration."

"That filthy, Muggle-loving _swine_," Draco hissed venomously. He drew his wand and pointed it at Weasley's turned back. "Let's see how you like this!"

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!" came a loud roar, and there was a tremendous bang. Professor Moody limped down the hall. His wand was out, and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone tile floor, exactly where Draco had been standing. Harry, Crabbe, Goyle, and Tim were staring amazed.

"Did he get you?" Moody growled to Weasley. His voice was low and gravelly.

"No. Missed."

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted.

Crabbe, who had been about to pick up the white ferret, froze in his place. It seemed that Moody's rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head.

Moody started to limp toward them, and the ferret gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the stairs.

"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again. It flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do!"

The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly. "Never - do - that - again -" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

Moody had clearly flipped out, but what could Harry do about it? Short of drawing his wand and attacking a teacher, nothing. Draco had really crossed a bad line in Moody's eyes.

"Professor Moody!" said a shocked voice.

The Deputy Headmistress was coming down the corridor with her arms full of books.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

"What - what are you doing?" said McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.

"Teaching," said Moody.

"Teach? Moody, is that a student?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

"Yep," said Moody. "Though technically, it's a ferret right now."

"No!" cried Professor McGonagall, pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.

"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall angrily. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock -"

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"

"I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Draco with great dislike.

Draco, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered, "You wait until my father hears about this, you crazy old man."

"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father of old, boy. You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son. You tell him that from me. Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"

"Yes," said Draco resentfully.

"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape. Come on, you."

He seized Draco's upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons. Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then waved her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms.

Harry followed Moody and Draco with his eyes, but there was nothing to be done. They had to get to Astronomy. They didn't get a chance to tell the girls what had happened either, because Professor Sinistra did not wait for the bell to ring before starting her lecture.

After fidgeting all class, Harry urged the girls to follow him to a nearby room where several ghosts were playing cards in the corner. Ignoring them, Harry closed the door.

"Where's Draco?" Pansy asked instantly.

"Moody dragged him off. He tried to curse Weasley, and Moody transfigured him."

"What?"

"Into a white _ferret_." Tim savoured the word. "And then Moody bounced him around a bit."

"That's barbaric!" Pansy sounded truly outraged.

"He deserved it. Weasley's back was turned. The bloke should at least be allowed the dignity of _attempting_ to draw his wand. He is a pureblood, even if he is a blood traitor."

They discovered Draco back at the dorm and in bed. His pale skin was covered with fading bruises, ugly yellow and purple blotches that looked extremely painful. There was an empty potion bottle on his bedside table.

"Professor Snape give you a miracle concoction?" Harry asked.

"I don't feel a thing," Draco said in a spacey sort of voice. "What've I missed?"

"Crabbe will fill you in," Tim replied. "I hope you're happy."

"I won't be cursing Weasley from behind any more, that's for sure. Snape said it was conduct unworthy of a Slytherin, and if I wanted to try it again, I could learn what it was like to homogenize fire ants by hand every night for the next month. So I told him I'd only ever try to curse Weasley when he'd had fair warning."

"What'd Snape say to that?"

"He said that would be fine."

Harry laughed. That was Snape for you. If a Slytherin couldn't beat someone plainly, it meant nothing. Ambition led some to cheat, but Snape had threatened a slow disintegration to any Slytherin caught cheating. This was an extension of that philosophy. Seek any legitimate advantage, but don't cross the line.

Everyone fussed over Draco for awhile, but he felt well enough to join them for dinner. He ate slowly, but he cleared his plate, and by Saturday morning, he was back to his old self.

Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott ventured over the Slytherin table at breakfast. They made a beeline for Harry, and he stood to greet them.

"Greetings, Hufflepuffs," he said, bowing extravagantly. "What brings you into Slytherin country?"

"Good morning, Harry," Susan said with a smile. "How was your first day of classes? You had Moody on Friday, right?"

"Oh yeah. He's a riot. He's going to give us a crash course in the Unforgivable Curses."

"You're kidding."

"I'm not."

"Moody's one of the best. Aunt Amelia says so. You can never be too paranoid, she says."

"He doesn't try to sugarcoat it," Harry admitted. "It's pretty graphic."

"I hear Longbottom went in to shock," Draco snickered.

"It was pretty shocking," Harry shot back.

"Right."

"So, Harry, what did you have planned for tomorrow?" Susan asked.

"Nothing much. No homework yet. Probably sleep in and laze about all day."

"The weather is still very nice. Would you like to join us for an outing on the lake?"

Harry considered the idea. "Just me? Or are you inviting all of us? Who else is coming along?"

Hannah laughed softly. "Well, Malfoy can be invited, of course. We wouldn't dream of making you come alone."

"Again," Susan added.

Harry remembered the afternoon by the pool he'd shared with the two Hufflepuff girls. "Yeah. Draco, what do you say?"

"Boating sounds fun. Maybe we'll see some mer-people."

"There you are," Harry told the girls. "What time and where?"

"After breakfast at the front gate?" Hannah suggested.

"We'll be there."

"See you then." The Hufflepuffs returned to their designated table.

"Draco," Pansy said dangerously, "Why are you making dates with Hufflepuffs?"

"It's not a date," Draco denied. "Not for me, anyway. For Harry, yes, but I'm going just to support him. Besides, I don't know if Bones or Abbott is after him."

"I hope it's Bones," Tim chimed in before Pansy could respond. "They're a fine old family. Abbott, on the other hand, is a halfblood. I did some digging after your birthday party, Harry. Her mother was a Mudblood, you know, also a Huffleduffer. You don't want to go hanging with _her_ sort."

"You know what, Tim?" Harry said in a dangerous voice of his own. "Shut your mouth. I mean it. Shut your filthy mouth. I'll hang with whomever I like. I've had just about enough of you ranting on about Mudbloods. Enough. I'm sick if it. I'm not going to tell you again."

"What is your malfunction?" Tim demanded scathingly.

"I'm sick of being told what a good pureblood does or doesn't do. Maybe it's slipped your mind, genius, but I'm not a pureblood. My mother was Muggleborn."

"Harry, I'm not talking about you. I don't mean your mum-"

"You don't mean Hannah's mum either! She's probably a lovely woman."

"Individual exceptions do not invalidate the rule. Muggleborns are threats to our world. They are untrustworthy, for one, and two, they bring their obnoxious culture-"

"Not any more!" Harry interrupted angrily. "That's the whole point of the Magical Child Protection Act! It's to separate wizards and Muggles so that kids like me don't get knocked around. I'd have been pleased as punch to grow up as a wizard. I should have, if it wasn't for Voldemort."

Tim flinched slightly.

"Stop that! Sirius isn't afraid of him. Neither am I. Sirius has told me a lot of good things about my mum, too, and I won't have you defame her blood any more."

"Blood matters."

"Ability matters more, you twit! It's in the Rules! Lily Evans was Head Girl and a whiz at Charms and Potions. She was as fine a witch as you could ask for. And let me remind you, Mister Superiority, that it was that Muggleborn Granger girl who took tops in every class first year. Pity she had some bad luck, because she'd probably still be whipping you!"

"Shut up!" Tim shouted, finally stung to the quick.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it Tim?" Harry taunted. "Come on, tell us all how ashamed you are to be beat by a girl with no wizarding family. Tell us."

"It makes me crazy!" Tim yelled. "I don't understand it! It makes no sense!"

Harry paused a moment. He looked Tim square in the eye. "Yes, it does, Tim. It means that blood isn't everything. Magical heritage can help a lot, but it's not the only thing. There's something else."

"Blood matters," Tim repeated in a much quieter tone. He turned and left the Great Hall, muttering to himself, but Harry couldn't hear his words. Which was probably for the better.

Harry watched him leave and turned a hard eye on the rest of his friends. "Anyone else?"

Draco looked completely gobsmacked. "Not after that little show," he said in an awed tone. "I've never seen anyone do that to Tim."

"I meant every word. And that goes for you too, Draco."

"I've always known that magic matters more than blood. Muggles are what I hate, for all the wrongs they've done us wizards. I think Father's law is exactly what we needed to solve the Muggleborn problem. Give it two generations and there'll be all-new pureblood lines springing up. They won't be as distinguished as the Malfoy or Black names, of course, but these things take time."

Thankfully it was early and not many people were in the Great Hall to witness the public disagreement between members of Slytherin House. Those rumours that did get spread painted Tim as the jerk, which certainly was the case as far as Harry was concerned. Sirius had told him loads of stories about his dad and mum. It had been repeatedly stressed that Lily Evans had been Muggleborn, and Harry knew Sirius would never lie to him. His mum had been one hell of a witch, from Sirius' and Remus' accounts. The standard line from Tim's mouth, that all "Mudbloods" were bad, was not true. Harry wouldn't let him lie any more.

Pansy was the leader of the Slytherin girls in their form and exerted a powerful influence in the younger years as well as a limited presence amongst the uppers. She said nothing about Harry's outburst, but Harry noticed that her use of the vicious word "Mudblood" tapered off. Pansy was always more inclined to talk about her fellow students anyway.

Crabbe and Goyle always followed everything Draco did. Millie and Jenna had never really ranted like Tim or Draco before. Jenna cared more about having a good time than anything else. Millie had always spoken against Muggles, not saying much about Muggleborns.

While Hannah almost certainly heard about Harry's outburst, the outing on the lake was very low-key. The four students shared lots of laughs and had a most delightful time. They didn't see any mer-people, but they did meet up with the giant squid. Susan and Hannah egged Harry on as Draco dared him to tickle its tentacles. Draco nearly fell overboard from sheer mirth, but the squid caught him and pushed him back in.

Sunday evening was quiet in the common room. Blaise was nowhere to be found as Harry and Draco described their day to Pansy, Jenna, Crabbe, Goyle, and Millie. Tim was welcome only if he kept his mouth shut, and when he didn't, Harry sternly asked him to leave. Incredulity written all over his face, Tim had stomped off to the dorm. He was fast asleep when the other boys went to bed.

Monday morning came entirely too soon. Harry groggily shambled to the shower and turned the spray on full blast. The shock of hot water snapped him in to focus. Only a few of the fourth years were taking Care of Magical Creatures, so Friday morning was going to be a bit of a lay-in. As he ran the soap across his chest, Harry wondered how long it would take him to unlearn his practice of rising early for Quidditch practices.

As long as he was awake, he might as well head up to breakfast early. He wondered if any of the others would rise earlier than absolutely necessary. At least two Slytherins (usually Crabbe and Goyle) always skidded in to breakfast with minutes to spare. Harry had done it more than once himself.

In the common room, Laine and Ginny were bent over a magazine. As Harry approached to wish them a good morning, he saw that it was the latest issue of _Quidditch Weekly_, a new publication that dealt only with the noblest of all wizarding sports. Viktor Krum's scowling face looked up at them, but the girls were smiling.

"He was so fabulous at the World Cup," Laine gushed. "I love Quidditch stars. Wasn't he just great, catching the Snitch to save his team some face? That's something a Slytherin would do."

"Trust me, I heard loads about how great Krum is," Ginny replied sourly. "All summer, Krum this, Krum that. Ron was positively smitten with the bloke."

"Is Ron a poof?" Harry asked with a completely straight face.

Ginny giggled. "No, not as far as I know, and trust me I would know. He just likes Krum. He was absolutely awful all summer. It's nice to be back at school."

"Was he so insufferable?" Harry inquired.

"First it was that he didn't get to go to the World Cup. Then it was because Bill and Charlie and Percy took me and not him. Nevermind that he hates Percy. Nevermind that I never get to see him since he moved out. Nevermind that the twins weren't going either. Suddenly it was all about Ron and how pathetic he is."

"Must've been a long conversation," Harry quipped, making Laine giggle.

"Oh, he went on about how he never gets to have anything nice, as if owning a lot of junk makes you a better person." Ginny sounded very scornful of her sibling. "Mum started shouting at him then, and he stormed out of the house. It was pretty amusing until she laid in to me."

"You?" Harry was surprised. "Why would she row at you?"

"She said I shouldn't be winding him up. I barely mentioned it at all."

"Why did she get so upset?" Harry had an inkling of how much grief Ginny had probably had to deal with from her brothers, but he hadn't considered how her parents were treating her. Not having parents of his own, he couldn't imagine that they would treat her with anything other than complete and total love.

"Things haven't been all that well with me and mum lately," Ginny said with a sigh. "She's still on me about deciding to become a Slytherin."

"Be strong, Ginny," Laine said encouragingly. "If Percy can do it, so can you."

"Percy also got strung up on the Astronomy Tower. Mum understood that, and it was only for a year and a half, so she let it go. But she was dead-set that I was going to remain a Gryffindor."

Harry hadn't really looked after Ginny much once he'd pawned her off on the second year girls. She'd settled quietly into Slytherin house, but he'd barely spared her a thought. To be fair, Harry had been rather occupied with thoughts of avenging the betrayal of his parents all through last year. Suddenly, Harry felt a stab of guilt. He'd merely noted that Ginny was wearing a green and silver tie and let it pass. The times he'd seen her over the summer, at his birthday party and at the Quidditch World Cup, there hadn't been a lot of time for meaningful dialogue. She had seemed happy enough.

"Was it so hard to switch?" Harry asked. "I knew old McGonagall gave you grief at the end of your first year, but she didn't seem to say much last year."

"Only until about Christmas. I don't know why she eventually laid off, but I'm glad she did. There wasn't anything she could do about where I chose to sleep. She took plenty of points from me for going to all the Slytherin classes. I served lots of nasty detentions, too. She really twigged about the tie, though. First Transfiguration class, she switched the colours on me. Any points I did manage to earn she made sure to specify were for Gryffindor. She got really nasty when she started _deducting_ points from _Slytherin_ for my attitude."

"So that's why we didn't win the House Cup last year," Harry said slyly.

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "This was all your idea, Potter, so I don't want to hear it."

Harry grinned at her. "That's the spirit, Weasley."

Laine giggled, and Ginny gave Harry a few more seconds of sternness before joining in.

"Good morning, Harry," came a cheerful voice. "Slater, Weasley."

"Hi, Blaise," Harry said. "You're up early."

"So are you."

"I play Quidditch."

"Not this year."

"Force of habit. What's your excuse?"

"Got up for a drink of water and couldn't get back to sleep over Jenna's snoring."

"Jenna doesn't snore!" Harry protested.

"When do you watch her sleep, Harry?" Ginny asked slyly.

"In History of Magic class."

Laine and Ginny both laughed. Blaise frowned at them.

"Would you like to go up to breakfast, Harry?"

"I was on my way there when I saw this pair. I never did get around to my point. Laine, Ginny, I hate to eat alone." He hadn't quite intended to invite both girls up to breakfast, but Harry would do anything to avoid giving Blaise the impression that they were dating.

"Sure," Ginny said a bit too quickly. "I'm famished."

Harry imagined he must be quite the sight, entering the Great Hall with three pretty girls. Ginny's brother looked furious at seeing her with Harry, but she twirled her wand through her fingers confidently. Ron stayed in his seat, stabbing viciously at his scrambled eggs.

Draco and Pansy came in a short time later holding hands. They stopped to exchange some whispered words before coming to their seats. Pansy smiled and placed a peck of a kiss on Draco's cheek. They sat down across from Harry, who had Laine and Ginny on his left and Blaise on his right.

Millie, Crabbe, and Goyle came charging in, quickly taking seats. "We've been here with you the whole time," Millie said breathlessly.

"What've you been doing?" Harry asked curiously.

"Instigating," Goyle grunted, stabbing at a kipper.

"Instigating?" Ginny asked. "Nice one. Four syllables."

What they'd been instigating was quickly revealed as breakfast was livened by a shouting match between the upper form Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. The insults hurled by Ravenclaw were obscure, but Hufflepuff fought back with spirit. Harry never did get the straight of what had started it all, and neither Millie nor her co-conspirators would divulge the details. By the time they were ready to head to Ancient Runes, wands were being drawn and challenges issued. Professors Sprout, Flitwick, McGonagall, and Babbling moved in at that point to break things up.

The class waited quite awhile with no teacher. They lounged back in their chairs and speculated at who would be chosen as Hogwarts champion. Draco was in the middle of running Gryffindor in to the ground to Amy Geagan and Chrissy Golding when the door opened and a very dishevelled Professor Babbling arrived leading the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, who were scowling at each other.

"Oh my, what a brawl!" Babbling dropped her bag heavily on the desk and sat down on the edge. "Forget the lesson. How many of you went to the World Cup? I went early and didn't speak English for two weeks. It was extremely liberating, but it's good to be home."

They discussed the strange wizards they'd seen and the strange languages they'd heard. Babbling was telling about an encounter with a group of Valosian vampires who'd been interested in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs when the bell rang, and the Slytherins and Gryffindors were off to Potions.

Harry fell back a bit to walk beside Draco. "Hang up a second," he said. "I've got to tie my shoe."

Draco nodded. "We'll catch up."

As the others fell out of earshot, Draco threw Harry an inquisitive glance. "What's going on?"

"I don't want to work with Blaise." It didn't get plainer than that. She made him uncomfortable, and potion-making was not something one did while distracted. Until he could resolve the situation with her, he didn't want to partner her, in any class.

"So don't." Draco made it sound impossibly easy.

"You're serious. How? If I tell her I don't want to be her Potions partner, I'll hurt her feelings. But I can't explain myself without bringing up that I don't want to date her and hurting her feelings _again_."

"You don't have to say anything," Draco said confidently. "Girls understand non-verbal messages. They'll often imagine them even when you're not sending them. I say you just walk in and sit down next to me. Blaise will see that and understand and there's no need for awkward conversations."

"What about Pansy? Won't she read the same message from you?"

"If she does, so what? Let them work together. We've worked with the same partners for three years now. Things change. Let's just do it."

"Just do it?" Harry couldn't help but ask. "Now you sound like a Gryffindor."

"Oh, I hate you. But I'll do it, if you will."

"You know what? Sure. Why not?" Harry suddenly felt totally reckless. Once his brain had processed Draco's idea, there seemed like nothing more suitable. He'd tried to be nice about things with Blaise, and she hadn't gotten the message. It was time to be a little more direct.

"Really?" Draco asked. "Okay. Yeah, we'll just go in and sit down. There's always spare benches. We'll have to work closer to Weasley, but no plan is perfect."

"Go in, sit down," Harry repeated. Go in, sit down.

"Right then. We don't want to be late."

Both Slytherins and Gryffindors were seated, waiting for Professor Snape to emerge from his office. Blaise and Pansy both sat alone with an empty seat, chatting quietly. Harry walked right past them and sat at an empty bench. He reached into his bag as Draco sat next to him. They took out their quills, ink, and parchment with almost rigid synchronization. They both stared firmly ahead as gasps of disbelief came from all around them.

Blaise slowly stood up, watching the back of Harry's head incredulously. When he didn't turn, she let out a mournful wail and ran from the classroom, leaving her books and cauldron behind.

Pansy, stunned in to silence by Draco's action, watched Blaise flee with interest, and her calculating eyes studied Draco intently. He turned back slightly and winked at her. Pansy smiled to herself. It was downright Slytherin.

"Very well, Jenna, get yourself over here," Pansy said in the sudden silence.

Harry would have thanked Merlin, but was afraid his voice might fail him. Pansy hadn't batted an eye. She'd read the message he was sending Blaise and had correctly interpreted the message Draco had sent her. By acting completely casual, Pansy had told Harry that she approved of what he'd done.

Jenna picked up her bag and moved to sit in the empty chair next to Pansy. She was smiling brightly, but there was no further opportunity for conversation as Snape arrived and the lecture began.

Blaise did not return to class, nor did she join them for lunch. She skivved on History of Magic as well, only reappearing for a double period of Herbology. She joined Crabbe and Goyle at a work bench and didn't look up at the others.

Harry felt like scum he would scrape off of his shoe. He'd really hurt Blaise's feelings. He swallowed a lump in his throat. He hated having to put Blaise through this, but he'd made his wishes known to her. He couldn't help how she felt about him. Harry only wanted to be friends, but she was making it impossible.

Their lessons were becoming more difficult and demanding than ever before, particularly Mad-Eye Moody's Defence Against the Dark Arts. To their surprise, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.

"You can't do that!" Draco protested loudly "It's illegal!"

Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "Auror trainees get put under it. High security Ministry positions require proven resistance to Imperius. Not the Minister, which is foolishness, but there you are. Most of you won't go in to the Ministry, but you'll wield influence all the same. That sort of influence can be swayed with the word of command. Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like and to learn to resist as much as you can. If you'd rather learn the hard way - when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You're dismissed." He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door.

"No, sir," Draco said quickly. "I don't like the idea of anyone controlling my thoughts."

Professor Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Harry watched as, one by one, his classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Crabbe and Goyle both proved quite adept at ballet. Blaise imitated a squirrel. Millie tried for a whole minute to walk up the wall. Tim loudly proclaimed his secret addiction to Muggle television and his fondness for Doctor Who. Pansy dipped her quill in ink and began writing all over her own face. Draco started reading from the textbook, speaking in a boorish American accent. Jenna balanced perfectly on the back of her chair, perched like an owl. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.

"Potter," Moody growled, "you next."

Harry moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, "_Imperio!_"

It was the most wonderful feeling. Harry felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in his head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. He stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching him.

And then he heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice, echoing in some distant chamber of his empty brain: _Jump onto the desk. Jump onto the desk._

Harry bent his knees obediently, preparing to spring.

_Jump onto the desk._

Why, though? Another voice had awoken in the back of his brain. Stupid thing to do, really, said the voice.

_Jump onto the desk._

No, I don't think I will, thanks, said the other voice, a little more firmly. No, I don't really want to.

_Jump! NOW!_

The next thing Harry felt was considerable pain. He had both jumped and tried to prevent himself from jumping. The result was that he'd smashed headlong into the desk knocking it over, and, by the feeling in his legs, fractured both his kneecaps.

"Now, that's more like it!" growled Moody's voice, and suddenly, Harry felt the empty, echoing feeling in his head disappear. He remembered exactly what was happening, and the pain in his knees seemed to double.

"Look at that, you lot!" Moody crowed. "Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention. Watch his eyes; that's where you see it. Very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling _you_!"

Everyone was suitably impressed with Harry's strength of will. Harry was quite surprised at himself, for after four times in a row, he was able to throw off the curse entirely. There was just something offensive about being compelled against his will. Flushed with success and nursing sore knees, Harry limped to double Transfiguration where not even McGonagall's double dose of homework could ruin his mood.

"You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education," she told them in response to a collective groan, her eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles. "Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer, and I will not have you embarrass me before the Ministry officials who administer the tests. You have two short school years remaining in which to learn difficult magic that continues to elude some of you. Mister Nott remains the only person in this class who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a _satisfactory_ pincushion. Mister Crabbe, Mister Goyle, I might remind you that your pincushions still curl up in fright if anyone approaches them with a pin!"

McGonagall was not the only teacher to pile on the homework. All the fourth years had noticed a definite increase in the amount of work they were required to do this term. It was a bit overwhelming, really, to have homework from all of their classes at one time. There was so much work to keep current on that Harry nearly forgot about the the upcoming Triwizard Tournament.

Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had them writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Harry didn't know how the knowledge of sneaky goblin tricks would help him in the future, but he dutifully paid close attention.

Professor Snape had them reading up on antidotes. They took this seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked. While it would undoubtedly be a Gryffindor he poisoned, surely a Slytherin's antidote would be called upon to save him. If it didn't work, they might earn a less than perfect mark.

Professor Sinistra had begun to teach them how the movements of the heavens, which they'd studied for three years now, could affect the casting of magic. They were regularly buried in phase charts, tables of angles and degrees, and galactic diagrams. The mathematics involved was easier now that they'd had geometry with Professor Vector, but Harry still got lost quite often.

Professor Vector was now introducing them to algebra, which Harry despaired over mastering. Tim, to no one's surprise, had quickly surpassed everyone in grasping the fundamentals of maths. They hadn't yet begun applying the theories of Arithmancy, but Vector had promised them that there was a practical portion to the O.W.L..

Professor Babbling had completely moved on from the Norse Futhark. Now they were starting in on Celtic runes. Their lessons were just as tedious as the previous year, and from what they'd heard, fifth year was more of the same with Germanic. And those were the easier languages! In sixth year, Professor Babbling had promised them Hebrew.

Hagrid had apparently gone off the deep end, because Millie brought back word from Care of Magical Creatures that they were now caring for something he called Blast-Ended Skrewts, some sort of illegal cross between Manticores and Fire Crabs.

"Someone ought to report him to the Ministry," she declared. "They spit fire and such!"

"I thought you liked animals," Jenna teased her.

"I do, but not monsters! Do you believe he invited us down on alternate evenings to observe the things and take _notes_?"

"I might do that," Goyle said. "I think the Skrewts are pretty cool. Illegal or not, Professor Hagrid's made a good crossbreed."

Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms. They immediately headed for the library before all the copies were checked out.

Professor Sprout's lessons were all about the Upas tree. Legend held that it produced narcotic and toxic fumes which killed plants and animals for miles around. If one were to fall asleep in the shade of this tree, she warned her rapt audience, he would never awaken. Malaysians had supposedly executed prisoners by tying them to the trunk of this great tree.

Pansy promptly declared her intent to dispose of Tim in this manner, setting off a storm of bickering that eventually drew in Draco as well. Blaise leapt to Tim's defence, and in the end, it was only their arrival at the library that quieted everyone. Tim and Blaise stalked away from the group, while Draco and Pansy smooched to forget their irritation. Jenna and Millie had both spun around, hugging themselves, running their hands up and down, making highly exaggerated kissing noises. Harry, Crabbe, and Goyle had all snorted with laughter, but Pansy had haughtilly sat down and opened her books. Jenna joined her, and they all turned to Charms.

to be continued...


	10. Visitors

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Ten - Visitors**

October came around in short order. The weather turned cooler, and the sky was more frequently full of stormy clouds. On several occasions, the Slytherins were cold enough to resort to the Self-Warming Charm that they had learned from Professor Snape in their first year to counter the chill of the dungeons' stone walls. As always, it was gratifying to see the Gryffindors huddling close to their bubbling cauldrons for warmth.

Any satisfaction Draco got was always short-lived, for Ron Weasley took every opportunity to tell the story of the "Amazing Bouncing Ferret". On several occasions, Harry had needed to intercede as Draco furiously ordered Crabbe and Goyle to pummel Weasley.

At least the Gryffindor was forced to keep his mouth shut in Potions. He took personal offence at having to work so close to the Slytherins. He glared at them through every lesson until yelled at by Professor Snape to pay attention.

Harry and Draco continued to partner, as did Pansy and Jenna. Blaise sat closest to the classroom door now, working by herself. Harry tried his best to stay resolute, but sometimes he would catch her gazing at him wistfully and it would make him feel like such a heel.

Tim continued to have a bad attitude. He rarely spoke to any of the lads any more except to talk about school-related things. He and Blaise were as thick as thieves lately, scoring perfect marks on every assignment.

Harry's regular circle was pretty slim these days. It was always Harry, Draco, Pansy, and Jenna together in the library, Herbology, or at the Slytherin table for meals. Millie, Crabbe, and Goyle were always face down in books about magical creatures. Hagrid had exciting tastes but was a poor teacher. He was better at his subject than Lockhart had been, Millie joked, but there was still a lot to learn independently if they were to be prepared for the O.W.L.s.

Most evenings were spent in the common room, and Harry deliberately sought out Ginny Weasley to keep himself informed as to her well-being. He was determined to be more diligent in his responsibility towards her, especially now that Percy was no longer at school. Ginny, Laine and Lucas Slater, Arcen Bulstrode, and Michelle Holt routinely joined the four fourth years to exchange gossip.

Professor Snape caught some fifth year Ravenclaws boys cheating on an examination, a scandal that cost their house seventy-five points and the pair a month of detention. Additionally, Professor Binns was drafted to give them both a series of lectures on ethics, held every Sunday morning at half-six.

Ravenclaw's misfortunes continued as no less a personage than the Head Girl, Penelope Clearwater, was discovered snogging with Gryffindor's Tyler Jackson in the staff room. Gryffindor lost forty points, but Clearwater was stripped of her gold badge. A poor example to other students, the Deputy Headmistress had declared, and Margaret Rosier was selected to replace her.

Harry and Draco continued to lift weights every day, even if it was for as little as twenty minutes. They were lifting roughly the same mass, though nowhere near the league of Crabbe and Goyle. Tim, who had never joined their workout, routinely denounced Muggles and scuttled off to the library whenever they pulled out the weights.

Just for the sake of having other people to talk to, Harry and Draco had invited Lucas and Arcen to join the little club. After some initial hesitation and quietness on their parts, they quickly became quite the outrageous additions. Jeremiah Goodwinter had been invited as well, but he politely declined, citing other obligations.

At least twice a week, Harry snuck off on his own to some secluded corner of the castle to work on his Animagus training. He was now able to grow his hair, extend his fingers, change his legs into those of a chicken, and he'd decided on his own to try turning his arms in to wings. Black feathers, he'd decided, like a mighty bird of prey. So far it was going pretty good, though the picture in his head of what animal he would look like was growing stranger by the day.

With his Transfiguration going rather well, Arithmancy had gotten extremely difficult. Professor Vector had a very loose notion of what defined "pre"-algebra, and they were presently struggling with determining the order of operations of very involved equations. Harry normally did quite well in the subject, having been exposed to "Muggle maths" before the age of eleven, but even he was now confounded at times. Still, his previous reputation at the subject stuck with him. Everyone thought Harry earned top marks.

"Hi, Harry," Padma Patil said as he approached the Great Hall for dinner one night. She was standing to one side of the door, leaning against the wall. She had removed her uniform pointed hat and was busily braiding her long hair.

"Hi, Padma. What's new?"

"You're still pretty good at Arithmancy, right?"

"I suppose."

"Harry, we'll see you at the table," Draco said. He put his arm around Blaise's waist and continued walking, guiding her past the pretty Ravenclaw. Pansy linked arms with Blaise, and the blonde was escorted into the Great Hall protesting, "Let go of me. What's _wrong_ with you?"

Harry silently thanked his friends' foresight and smiled warmly at Padma. He hadn't talked to her much at all since his birthday party. The few minutes between classes were hardly conducive to meaningful conversations.

"I've really been having problems with this one question on the homework," Padma confessed. "I keep coming up with a different answer every time. Terry breezed through it all, Mandy copied off of Terry, and Michael and Su's answers don't match. I'm stuck, and none of the uppers will help us. Do you think we could study together tonight after dinner?"

"I'll help you with Arithmancy if you can help me with Charms," Harry replied. "Because you're charming."

Padma smiled, showing her pearly white teeth. "I'm quite good at Charms," she said calmly.

"Excellent."

"I'll see you in the library, then."

"I guess you will."

Harry watched her go into the Hall with a bemused expression plain on his face. He'd just made a date with the prettiest girl in school. The lads were never going to believe this. Heck, he barely believed it himself.

As he sat down to eat, Draco nudged him in the side with an elbow. "What are you so happy about?"

"Padma just asked me to study with her."

There was a strangled gasp from several seats away.

"Good show, Harry. Smashing. Get lots of studying done."

Harry felt himself start to flush. The dinner hour was filled with more ribbing from Draco, Jenna, and Millie. Goyle and Crabbe jumped in to defend Harry, and Pansy took his side as well. Blaise and Tim sat apart, ignoring everyone else.

After a quick trip back to the dungeons to retrieve his bag, Harry pushed open the doors of the library to see Padma sitting at the first table with her nose in a book. She glanced up as the door shut and quickly got to her feet. She held a finger to her lips, cautioning him to absolute silence before motioning towards one of the stacks with a toss of her head. Harry nodded. Padma picked up her bag and led him to the opposite side of the room, around a sharp corner, and along the stacks of books on the various goblin wars to a small table under a glowing lamp.

"This is my favourite spot in the library," she said. "It's so secluded, and I can get tons of reading done. I need complete silence to read."

"I can read just about anywhere," Harry replied. "I can tune it all out if I'm really in to the book."

"Lucky," she said wistfully.

"Well, if you had to share a dorm with Crabbe and Goyle, you'd learn to tune out as well," Harry quipped.

"Not so lucky," Padma laughed. "I'd go mad if I had all that. We Ravenclaws like the quiet." She reached in to her bag and drew out the neatest notes Harry had ever seen. "Nose in the books and all."

"I saw you at Wand Smasher; I think you're secretly a party girl," Harry accused. Padma had done quite a lot of wild dancing that night. "You just pretend to be a good little study bug."

Padma giggled. "Oh stop it," she said. "You're going to get me thrown out of my house. I must keep up appearances after all."

"I won't betray your secret identity. Promise," Harry said. "As long as you give me some of your notes to study, or use a mimicking charm for me."

"You're such a Slytherin," Padma said, shaking her head ruefully. "Is that why you're so good at Arithmancy? Calculating?"

"You got it," Harry said. "And maths isn't so bad. It's just logical. Once you understand the rules, you'll be fine. Unless you're like some Ravenclaws who prefer to resort to other methods?"

"Oh no," she said hastily. "I'm no cheater."

"You don't want to volunteer to spend more time with old Binns?"

"You mean like Dallas and McKay?" Padma asked. "I think they're lucky to escape with their lives."

"Of all the places to try cheating, why _Snape's_ class?" he asked rhetorically. "Potions is something you either know it or you don't. You can't fake it."

"I don't know, and they're not talking."

Harry and Padma did eventually get some studying done. He was able to show her how to properly apply a square root, and she instructed him on the Summoning Charm. Her answers now matched his, and he'd been able to call a book to himself from down the length of one whole aisle. She mentioned a Nightvision Charm, a spell that sharpened one's eyes to take total advantage of any amount of light, but she wouldn't tell him how to cast it. Harry was sure that it would be good to know the next time he went roaming after curfew, though she claimed it was for studying late.

As the bell tolled ten minutes to curfew, they hurried from the library to the main stairs.

"I'm going up," Padma said. "And I know you're going down."

"Yeah. This was fun." Harry wondered if he should try to kiss her goodnight. "We should do it again some time." By Merlin, had he just asked Padma on another date?

She beamed at him. "That would be very nice. You really have a way of explaining things simply."

"Next week then?"

"Sure."

"Well then," Harry said shakily. "I guess I'll see you in Herbology then." He'd just repeated himself. What a simpleton he must sound like. Well, she'd liked that he'd explained things simply, so there!

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Padma."

They stood there, staring at each other. Had she just tipped her head ever so slightly? Her lips looked so soft. Before his brain even registered his sudden decision, Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

Her mouth was as soft as it looked. Though she was startled for a half-second, she cupped his face with one hand and smooched him back with spirit. It lasted only a few moments, but it was enough to leave Harry breathless.

"Well," Padma said simply, her own breathing coming a bit heavier. "Good night."

She hurried up the stairs, and Harry watched her go. When she was out of sight, he threw a leg over the banister and slid down to the entrance hall. Ducking into the dungeons, Slytherin territory, he sauntered down to the common room with a spring in his step and a stupid grin on his face. What they'd done would be obvious to anyone who cared to look at Harry's face, so he carefully composed himself before speaking the password.

"Quidditch champions," he said, hoping his voice didn't sound too excited.

The door didn't move. "Quidditch champions," he said again, a bit louder. The wall had never had trouble hearing him before. Still, nothing happened.

Had they changed the password? His friends would never let him get locked out accidentally, so if the password had been changed, this was a jolly good prank on their parts.

Was he in front of the right wall? He'd been caught up in remembering every detail of the night, analysing the things that had made Padma smile and frown. She liked Charms, horses, and preferred her curry spicy. Could her kissing have made him so dizzy he was talking to an ordinary stone wall?

Harry turned around and retraced his steps to the Potions laboratory. No, he had gone the correct way. The password must have been changed. Despite himself, Harry grinned. He wished he'd been in on this one. He wondered who the ringleader was.

"Mister Potter!" came Professor Snape's ringing voice. "It is after curfew. Explain yourself immediately."

Harry turned to face his Head of House, his relief feeling like a cool drink of water on a sunny day. Professor Snape could solve his problem succinctly. As the joke went, Professor Snape was good at everything. Now Harry could get back to his common room, _and_ he wouldn't even lose points for being out after curfew.

"I'm locked out, sir. I thought I knew the password, but the wall won't open."

Snape peered at him quizzically. "I have not been informed of a change in password. We are still the champions, are we not?"

"Yes, sir."

"For which we have you to thank," Professor Snape said with a nod to Harry. "Very well, let us investigate this mysterious wall."

Harry followed closely behind as Snape stalked purposefully down the stone corridors to the wall that hid the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

"Quidditch champions," Harry said. The wall did not respond.

"Quidditch champions," Snape echoed. The wall still did not move.

"The true Slytherin knows there is more than one way to gain entry," Snape said to the wall, as though expecting a reply. "Well, this is a puzzle, isn't it? Mister Potter? Pay attention."

"Sir!"

Snape drew his wand and sharply traced a square in the air. He stabbed in the lower corner of that square and made a motion that reminded Harry of the turning of a page. A blue glow began to emanate from the stones.

"Interesting. And very creative. I must discover who placed it, if only to award points," Snape murmured. He waved his wand again, and the glow disappeared.

"Mister Potter! Wand out." Harry drew his wand. "Delineate the wall." Harry traced a rough square in the air in front of the wall. "Cast the Detection Charm you learned at the beginning of your third year." Harry did so, moving his wand in the same arc Snape had. The stones began to glow blue, just as they had for the Potions Master.

"Well done, Mister Potter. Now, feel the vibrations of the warding? What does it tell you?"

Harry hadn't done horrible at this Charm, but he'd not been top of the class either. Revealing the presence of magic was one thing; identifying it was a whole other Snitch he'd never caught. He peered intently at the blue glow, willing himself to see deeper than the light, trying to see the very pulse of the magic itself.

Sweat broke out on his brow, though the corridor was chilly. Sound, he thought, it had something to do with sound. Normally magic had something akin to music associated with it. Not this, though. There was a peculiar quietness to this magic.

"You do see it," Snape said approvingly. "Now do you know what it is?"

"Is it a Silencing Charm, sir?"

"It's something better. This barrier is designed to repel sound. The force of your voice speaking the password is literally not reaching the wall to trigger the magic that opens it. As I said, creative. Fortunately, a barrier is relatively easy to collapse. Observe."

Snape stabbed his wand at the centre of the wall and began to trace small circles with the tip. The blue glow Harry could still see began to whirl too, and gradually it all concentrated to one tight spot, which Snape flicked off the end of his wand liked one might a fly. The ball of energy, which was plainly visible now, cascaded along the hall to the junction, where it took a sharp left and disappeared.

Harry looked up at his Head of House with an inquisitive look. "Where did you send that, sir?"

"The staff room. It will doubtless be blamed on the Weasley twins, as is everything that happens in this school."

Harry wasn't sure Snape wasn't joking, and he _was_ pranking the other teachers, so he asked another question instead. "Who could have done this, sir?"

"Any student with a sufficient knowledge of runes. You yourself could do it if you applied yourself. I leave it to you to handle your friends. If it turns out to not have been them, inform me, and I will make inquiries. Good night, Mister Potter."

"Good night, sir. Thank you."

"You are most welcome."

Dear Harry,

Greetings from the outside world! Moony asked me to pass on his salutations as well. He's been dropping by every other day to check on me, even though he tries to pretend it's entirely coincidental. Why he needed to immediately know what size shoes I wear is beyond me. Even assuming he really did need to know, an owl would have sufficed. He's up to something, I just don't know what. His justifications have been getting flimsier by the day.

It's awfully boring not having anything to do. The cleaning is done, even the library. This dreary old house is quite empty and quite quiet without you. I thank Merlin every day that I don't have to listen to Mother, but the silence can be oppressive. I've listened to all the music you left behind. Then I went shopping and told Mortimer to give me all the albums for all the most popular singers, bands, whatever they are. There's loads of new music, and now _I_ can share it with _you_. I miss our weight-lifting sessions. How's that going, by the way? You might be ready to increase your total weight quite soon, so keep at it.

I just might happen to find myself in Hogsmeade come November, so we must meet. Three Broomsticks will be a bit boisterous (it always is), but Hog's Head has lousy food. Maybe we should sneak off to London and hit up the Leaky. I've taken to dining there once a week. The steak special is superb.

So how goes the hunt for a new girlfriend? Has either of those two Hufflepuff girls shown any more interest? Any Ravenclaws or Gryffindors looking a bit better these days?

Harry felt the blood rush to his face. Padma was a Ravenclaw, and her equally pretty twin sister was in Gryffindor. But there was no way Sirius could know!

Always aim high with girls. I once dared your dad to get the Head Girl to go out with him. Well, we were in fifth year at the time. Head Girl was a very attractive Hufflepuff who somehow looked good in yellow and had just broken up with her boyfriend. Prongs was a star Chaser on the Quidditch team, and she was a bit of a fan. Hufflepuff's Cup chances had been dead last since their last captain finished school, so when he started talking to her in his Quidditch robes after they'd just trounced Slytherin, she perked up immediately. Well, two weeks later, he asked her out to a fancy dinner at Hogsmeade. Sure enough, she said yes. She finished school and went on to be a sports agent, but he dated the Head Girl for near on three months. Of course that didn't win him any points with your mother.

I'll let you get back to studying now, but I'm thinking about you. Be safe and be vigilant. Give my greetings to your friends. Hear from you soon.

Love,

Padfoot

Even the ribbing he'd taken from Draco about coming in after curfew couldn't ruin Harry's good mood once Regal delivered the letter from home. He pulled out a bit of parchment and a quill and began scribbling a reply telling Sirius all about his study date with Padma and his adventure in getting shut out of the common room (by a smirking Tim Nott, it turned out!), and his magic lesson with Professor Snape. With the animosity Harry had sensed between the pair, the more examples of good behaviour he could exhibit, the better.

Harry was just signing his name when there came a hammering sound from the entrance hall, and those students in the Great Hall rose to their feet and shoved through the doors to read the announcement Mister Filch had just nailed up.

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON SUNDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. STUDENTS WILL ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.

Even though choir practices had been held every Tuesday and Thursday since the start of term, the Sorting Hat had declared at the last rehearsal that it would not embarrass the school by putting up "such a slovenly bunch of tone-deaf sloths" to sing a welcome to arriving foreign visitors, which had many grumbling unhappily. Harry didn't mind though. Lots of the choir's initial talent had finished school in the past two years, and their numbers were dwindling.

Hogwarts had done herself up properly anyway. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls of the Great Hall, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

Viktor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students were still gathered around the double doors, apparently unsure about where they should sit. The students from Beauxbatons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads.

"Oi, Durmstrang!" Draco called out. "_Meine Freunde, warum setzen wir uns nicht bei uns zu Tisch und genießen unser Mahl zusammen?_" Draco's pronunciation was very careful and precise. He didn't look entirely certain of himself, but apparently his words were comprehensible.

The red-robed students looked over. Krum nodded sharply. "_Wir sitzen hier._" He sat down across from Draco, and his fellow Durmstrang students took seats of their own.

"Draco Malfoy," Draco said, leaning across the table to shake hands with Krum. "My brother Elan spoke of you. He went to Durmstrang for his last two years of school."

"That is vie you look familiar," Krum grunted, his voice rumbling with his guttural accent.

"Such a pleasure to meet you. You've chosen the right folk to sit with, I assure you. Allow me to introduce you to my best friend, Harry Potter."

Krum didn't bat an eye at Harry's name, and he grunted what Harry assumed was a greeting. He stuck out his hand, though, so Harry dutifully shook it. _Don't talk about Quidditch_, he told himself. _He's just another student._

"Welcome to Hogwarts," he said to Krum. He looked up at the other Durmstrang students, who were pulling off their heavy furs and looking up at the starry black ceiling with expressions of interest; a couple of them were picking up the golden plates and goblets and examining them, apparently impressed. That fit with everything Elan had ever told them about the stern Institute's lousy chef.

Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding chairs. He was wearing his mouldy old tailcoat in honour of the occasion. Harry was surprised to see that he added four chairs, two on either side of Dumbledore's.

"But there are only two extra people," Harry said. "Why's Filch putting out four chairs. Who else is coming?"

"Probably nobody very interesting," Jenna quipped.

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.

"Snobby French _vache_!" Pansy hissed. "Feel free to leave!"

"Do we honestly have to put up with them all year?" Tim demanded scathingly.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

He sat down, and Harry saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation.

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Harry had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though the two schools had brought only a dozen students each. Perhaps it was because their differently coloured uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts' robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep blood-red that Harry had first seen when Elan was sent off two years ago.

Hagrid sidled into the Hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat at the end and reached for his goblet with a very heavily bandaged hand.

"Skrewts must've gotten 'excited'," Millie snorted. "That what he says when they try to murder us."

At the staff table, the two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff's other side, while Mr. Crouch was next to Madame Maxime.

"What are they doing here?" said Harry in surprise.

"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" said Draco. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."

"The Weasley twins have a pool going," noted Miles Bletchley, Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, as he elbowed Draco to the side and stole a seat.

"Hey! Cobbing!"

Harry thought he saw Krum twitch a smile at that.

"Figured I'd offer a teammate the chance to lose money with the rest of us," Bletchley continued.

"You play the game?" Krum inquired.

"Miles Bletchley, Slytherin Captain," Bletchley said, offering his hand.

"Vich post?" Krum ignored the hand.

"Keeper."

"You vould make better Beater."

Bletchley blinked, and his hand fell to his side. "I've got two great Beaters. Bole-"

"I saw them ven I came in. They are good, yes, but brute strength only is so much."

Bletchley looked like he might fall over. "I should switch to Beater? But my team-"

"I do not say you should do anything. I merely make ein observation."

"I- I- Thank you," Bletchley blurted, sticking out his hand again.

Krum endured the frantic pumping for a second, then he pointedly picked up his fork and shoved a huge bite of steak in to his mouth.

Several of the more silly Slytherin girls fluttered their eyelashes at Krum. Nobody was so silly as to approach, but plenty of them wanted to, if Harry had an opinion.

"These girls, they are so _dumm_," Krum said, reaching for the roast, which was pink and juicy. "I have not even taken a breath of fresh air before I am svarmed under. _Das Maedchen da_, asked me to sign her hat in _lippenstift_."

"You must be used to it, though," Draco said conversationally.

"I vill never get used to being under ein magnifying glass," Krum grunted. He cut another slice of meat and began to chew it.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean of dinner and dessert, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Harry felt a slight thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming.

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mister Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" - there was a smattering of polite applause - "and Mister Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likeable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. Remembering him in his neat suit at the Quidditch World Cup, Harry thought he looked strange in wizard's robes. His toothbrush moustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.

"Mister Bagman and Mister Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued. "They have examined the instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year and have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways: their magical prowess, their daring, their powers of deduction, and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

The Hall fell absolutely silent. It seemed nobody even dared to breathe.

"Mister Bagman and Mister Crouch will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts. The champions will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks, and the champion with the highest total will win the Triwizard Cup, a thousand Galleons, glory for their school, and bragging rights for the rest of their life.

At the mention of the prize, the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mister Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students. Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before the Headmaster. Dumbledore took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open.

"The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire!"

Dumbledore reached inside the chest and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it in to the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," Dumbledore continued, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

The Slytherins stood, and the Durmstrang students followed their lead. The guests waited for direction, and the hosts, showing their best manners, kept them company. Headmaster Karkaroff bustled up to his students presently.

"Back to the ship, then," he said. "Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?"

Krum shook his head as he pulled his furs back on. "Professor, I vood like some vine," said one of the other Durmstrang boys hopefully.

"I wasn't offering it to you, Poliakoff," snapped Karkaroff, his warmly paternal air vanishing in an instant. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy."

"_Gutennacht_," Krum said to Harry and Draco.

Karkaroff looked carelessly at whom Krum had deigned to speak to and froze. He stared at Harry as though he couldn't believe what he was looking at. Karkaroff's eyes moved slowly up Harry's face and fixed upon his scar.

"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," said a growling voice from behind him.

Professor Karkaroff spun around. Mad-Eye Moody was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang headmaster.

The colour drained from Karkaroff's face as Harry watched. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over him.

"You!" he said, staring at Moody as though unsure he was really seeing him.

"Me," said Moody grimly. "And unless you've got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move along."

Without another word, Professor Karkaroff swept his students away with him. Moody watched him until he was out of sight, his magical eye fixed upon his back, a look of intense dislike upon his mutilated face.

"Well, don't just stand there," he barked after a moment, startling them all. "Get off to bed."

He limped away. Harry stared after the old Auror, amazed at the extent of his hostility. He barely noticed as Professor Dumbledore approached with Mr. Crouch.

"No, Dumbledore, thank you kindly for the offer, I must get back to the Ministry," Mr. Crouch was saying. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment. I've just managed to find an assistant who comes highly recommended, so I'm feeling a little less deluged, but I despair of ever finding my desk again."

"Travel safely, Bartemius. We will see you soon."

to be continued...


	11. We Are The Champions

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Eleven - We Are The Champions**

All day long, rumours circulated through the school over the various consequences of attempting to cross Dumbledore's Age Line. The twin Weasley brothers had apparently sprouted long white beards. Sarah Fawcett, a Ravenclaw fifth year, acquired a fine collection of wrinkles. Marcus Summers, a fifth year from Hufflepuff, went bald and spotty.

Plenty of eligible Hogwarts students also dared to put their names in the Goblet. Slytherin House was well represented by Charles Warrington the Third, Terence Higgs, Ivan Bole, Matthew Derrick, Heather Chandler, Lila Murdock, and the new Head Girl, Margaret Rosier. Gryffindors, ever brave, put their names in en masse. Loads of Ravenclaws felt themselves smart enough as well, and it was with great cheering on the part of Hufflepuff that Cedric Diggory, a sixth year who played Seeker on the house team, sauntered up and casually tossed a folded bit of parchment into the blue flames.

All of the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons naturally entered. It wouldn't make much sense to bring any who would not attempt to compete.

When Harry and his friends entered the candlelit Great Hall for the Halloween feast, it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved from the entrance hall; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the High Table.

The feast itself seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it was their second feast in two days, Harry didn't seem to fancy the extravagantly prepared food as much as he would have normally. Everyone else in the Hall was likewise showing signs of impatience, and many people spent the whole meal fidgeting, craning their necks, and standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet. Harry simply wanted the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions. He hoped it was a Slytherin.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch was nowhere to be seen, and his place had been filled by Percy Weasley.

Harry nudged Draco. "Blimey, it's old Percy."

"What's he doing here? He's barely finished with school, but he's that high up in the Department of International Magical Cooperation?"

"He must have gotten a promotion or three. Last time I spoke to him, he'd only just joined. He must be filling in for Mister Crouch."

"Didn't I tell you he'd be going far?"

"Well, the Goblet of Fire is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" - he indicated the door behind the staff table - "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness.

The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting. A few people kept checking their watches.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it, and the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

A storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Viktor Krum rose from the Slytherin table and slouched up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

The girl who so resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Pansy said smugly over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party. "Disappointed" was a bit of an understatement, Harry thought. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion was next.

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

The uproar from the Hufflepuff table was deafening. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping and hugging each other, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers' table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real -"

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking. The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out - "Harry Potter."

Harry sat there, aware that every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at him. He was stunned. He felt numb. He was surely dreaming. He had not heard correctly.

There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat. Up at the High Table, Snape had risen to his feet, an unreadable expression on his face.

Harry couldn't think. The whole table was staring at him. "How?" Tim whispered furiously.

"I didn't," Harry said blankly. "I didn't do it."

At the High Table, Professors Dumbledore and Snape were holding a whispered conversation. Now Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor Snape.

"Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

Harry got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly. He set off up the gap between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. It felt like an immensely long walk; the High Table didn't seem to be getting any nearer at all, and he could feel hundreds and hundreds of eyes upon him, as though each were a searchlight. The buzzing grew louder and louder. After what seemed like an hour, he was right in front of Dumbledore, feeling the stares of all the teachers upon him.

"Well, through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling. Harry moved off along the teachers' table.

Harry went through the door out of the Great Hall and found himself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite him. The faces in the portraits turned to look at him as he entered. He saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear.

Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, hunched up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. Cedric was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire.

Fleur Delacour looked around when Harry walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.

"What is it?" she said. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"

She thought he had come to deliver a message.

"No, it's-" How _did_ he go about explaining this. "You see, there's been a snag. Something - unexpected."

Before he could elaborate, there was a sound of scurrying feet behind him, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took Harry by the arm and led him forward.

"Extraordinary!" he muttered, squeezing Harry's arm. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen, lady," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. "May I introduce, incredible though it may seem, the fourth Triwizard champion?"

Viktor Krum straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed Harry. Cedric looked nonplussed. He looked from Bagman to Harry and back again as though sure he must have misheard what Bagman had said. Fleur Delacour, however, tossed her hair, smiling, and said, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."

"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

Krum's thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric raised one of his, inquiring without speaking. Fleur frowned.

"But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said contemptuously to Bagman. "E cannot compete. 'E is too young."

"Well, it is amazing," said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Harry. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name's come out of the goblet, I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage. It's down in the rules; you're obliged. Harry will just have to do the best he -"

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and Percy Weasley. Harry heard the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before Professor McGonagall closed the door.

"Madame Maxime!" said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"

Somewhere under Harry's numb disbelief he felt a ripple of anger. Little boy? Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously.

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions. Or have I not read the rules carefully enough?" He gave a short and nasty laugh.

"C'est impossible," said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"That will do, Karkaroff," Snape said quietly, in the same tone he used to quiet an unruly classroom. "Before we start throwing accusations around, perhaps we had better ascertain a few facts." He looked at Harry. "Mister Potter, it is very important you be honest with us now. Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?"

"No, sir."

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?"

"No, sir!" said Harry vehemently.

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime.

Snape shook his head, his lip curling. "How could he have crossed the Age Line, Madame?" he asked bitingly.

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Madame Maxime, shrugging.

"It is possible, of course," said Dumbledore politely.

"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" said Professor McGonagall angrily. "Really, what nonsense!"

"The Age Line kept out multiple underage students," Snape said with disdain, his dark eyes flashing at Madame Maxime. "Including two of your girls, Madame. I brewed the potion to correct their condition."

Madame Maxime flushed darkly.

"Mister Bagman," said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, "you are one of our, er, objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular? Where is Mister Crouch? I am sure he would concur."

Percy cleared his throat. "Mister Crouch has come down with a slight illness and will indisposed for several days. As his attaché, I am empowered to speak for him. I have reviewed the rules most thoroughly, and it is stated quite clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament. Short of cancelling it-"

"Cancel?" Karkaroff snapped. "Impossible."

"Well, that settles it then," said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime. "Rules are rules."

"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff. He had dropped his unctuous tone and his smile now. His face wore a very ugly look indeed. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," said Bagman. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out. It won't reignite until the start of the next tournament."

"In which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" exploded Karkaroff. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled a voice from near the door. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

Professor Moody had just entered the room. He limped toward the fire, and with every right step he took, there was a loud clunk.

"Convenient?" said Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody." Harry could tell he was trying to sound disdainful, as though what Moody was saying was barely worth his notice, but his hands gave him away; they had balled themselves into fists.

"Don't you?" said Moody quietly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."

"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" said Madame Maxime.

"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, bowing to her. "I shall be lodging complaints with your Ministry of Magic _and_ the International Confederation of Wizards -"

"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter," growled Moody, "but, funny thing, I don't hear him saying a word."

"Why should 'e complain?" burst out Fleur Delacour, stamping her foot. "E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money! Zis is a chance many would die for!"

"Maybe someone's hoping Potter _is_ going to die for it, you stupid little girl!" Moody said with supreme scorn. "There's more going on here than just some silly little game. Plenty of former Death Eaters still loose in the world!" He glared around the room sternly, his magic eye whirring dizzyingly.

An extremely tense silence followed these words. Ludo Bagman, who was looking very anxious indeed, bounced nervously up and down on his feet and said, "Moody, old man. What a thing to say!"

"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," said Karkaroff loudly. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."

"Imagining things, am I?" growled Moody. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet."

"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" said Madame Maxime, throwing up her huge hands.

"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" snapped Moody. "To bamboozle the Goblet of Fire into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament? No student could cast a Confundus Charm that strong. I'm guessing the Death Eater submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category."

"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody," said Karkaroff coldly, "and a very ingenious theory it is. Though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously."

"I always think everything could be a trap," Moody retorted in a menacing voice. "It's why I'm still alive. There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage. It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff, as you ought to remember."

"Alastor!" said Dumbledore warningly. Harry wondered for a moment whom he was speaking to, but then realized "Mad-Eye" could hardly be Moody's real first name. Moody fell silent, though still surveying Karkaroff with satisfaction. Karkaroff's face was burning red.

"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, speaking to everyone gathered in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do."

"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr -"

"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."

Dumbledore waited, but Madame Maxime did not speak; she merely glared. Karkaroff was also livid. Bagman, however, looked rather excited.

"Well, shall we crack on, then?" he said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? The first task is designed to test your daring. So we are not going to be telling you what it is. One of a wizard's most important qualities is courage in the face of the unknown. The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions will be allowed only their wands. You will receive information about the second task if you survive the first. Champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. As recompense for the highly demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."

No help from teachers. Harry thought fast. It said nothing about godfathers or friends. He wouldn't be able to ask Snape, but he ought to do all right. Sirius and Remus would arm him well.

"Best of luck to all of you. Good night."

"Ludo, will you stop up for a nightcap?" said Dumbledore politely.

"Certainly!" said Bagman brightly. "I'm delighted to be back here at Hogwarts where it's all starting to happen now. It's much more exciting here than at the office!"

"Professor Karkaroff? Madame Maxime? Will you join us?" said Dumbledore.

But Madame Maxime had already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room. Harry could hear them both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall. Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they, too, exited, though in silence.

"Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go down to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at both of them. "I am sure Hufflepuff and Slytherin are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."

Harry glanced at Cedric, who nodded, and they left together.

The Great Hall was deserted now; the candles had burned low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins an eerie, flickering quality.

"So," said Cedric, with a slight smile. "We're playing against each other again!"

Nice of the cheeky fellow to refer to Quidditch when it had been cancelled.

"I s'pose," said Harry. He really couldn't think of anything to say. The inside of his head seemed to be in complete disarray, as though his brain had been ransacked.

"So, tell me," said Cedric as they reached the entrance hall, which was now lit only by torches in the absence of the Goblet of Fire. "How did you get your name in?"

"I didn't," said Harry, staring up at him. "I didn't put it in. I was telling the truth."

"Ah, okay," said Cedric. Harry could tell Cedric didn't believe him. "Well, see you, then."

Instead of going up the marble staircase, Cedric headed for a door to its right. Harry stood listening to him going down the stone steps beyond it, then, slowly, he started to descend to the dungeons.

More than anything, Harry wanted to send an owl to Sirius. But he had neither quill nor ink, and his odds of getting up to the Owlery and back without getting caught were slim to none. Sirius would believe him, at least. His friends wouldn't desert him either. The rest of the school would doubtless allow anti-Slytherin prejudice to contaminate their thinking, but his house would rally around him. House was like family at Hogwarts, that he knew.

How could anyone think he'd put himself in for the tournament? He was facing competitors who'd had three years' more magical education than he had. He was now facing tasks that not only sounded very dangerous, but which were to be performed in front of hundreds of people. Yes, he'd thought about it; he'd fantasized about it along with everyone else, but it had been a joke, really, an idle sort of dream. He'd never really, seriously considered entering. He wouldn't have even known how to start getting past that Age Line.

Surely Moody had the right of it. Some Dark wizard or witch had fooled the Goblet of Fire. There was only one reason for this to have happened. He saw in his mind's eye the Dark Mark floating above the World Cup. Death Eaters. The dream came back to him at once. Voldemort. If there was someone who wanted him dead, Harry could think of no other. He didn't know the names of the Death Eaters, but they would do their master's bidding.

As he entered the common room, a great cheer went up. The place was bedecked with green and silver streamers, and firecrackers were going off in the fireplace. His teammates had strung up a wall hanging with a picture of Harry holding up the Snitch while laying on the ground with a clearly broken leg. It was a scene from second year, and Harry rolled his eyes. Those gits couldn't have found a more inspiring pose?

"Well done, Potter!" Bole said, clapping him mightily on the shoulder. Harry rocked, nearly losing his balance. The Beater was very enthusiastic, Harry thought.

"Here, have a drink!" Derrick said, thrusting a mug in his hand before raising his own in the air. "To Harry! Pride of Slytherin House! Maker of History! And I predict, the winner of the Tournament With Four Champions! Up Slytherin!"

"Up Slytherin!" they roared.

Nobody asked Harry how he'd managed to get past the Age Line. Nobody asked him if someone had done it for him. That person would have been seeking their own glory as Harry's accomplice. It was merely accepted as a given that Harry had trickied his way into the Tournament somehow.

Despite the inevitability of classes the next morning, nobody wanted to cease carrousing and go to sleep. The seventh year girls finally drew wands on them all, though, and shooed everyone off to bed. Harry yawned hugely as he walked through the door.

Tim grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. Harry's head bounced off the hard stone and stars swam in his vision.

"How? You sodding egomaniac, don't you know how hard I tried to get past that Age Line? I _needed_ to get in the Tournament, you prat!"

"Why?" Harry asked, taken aback by Tim's rage.

"Shut up! How dare you not share the secret with me? Aren't we supposed to be friends?"

"We are friends, Tim!"

"Tim, let him go!" Draco shouted.

"Shut up, Draco! I'd expect _you_ not to tell me, but I thought Harry was better than that."

"He didn't tell you because there was nothing to tell!" Harry railed at Tim, shoving him away.

"Well now you've got what you wanted," Tim said, ignoring every word. "I hope you're happy, _champion_," he sneered. "And if you're expecting me to help save your cheating hide, think again."

Tim shoved past Crabbe and Goyle and went to his bed. He threw himself down and yanked the curtains shut. Harry glared at the folds of green velvet.

"I don't need your help," Harry snarled. Tim's angry words had raised his own temper. The slamming against the wall hadn't helped either. "I can write to a former Defence teacher. I've got a godfather who fought in the last war. What the hell do _you_ know?"

Harry rubbed the back of his head and sat down. As if he hadn't had enough trouble today. Tim's rage was inexcusable. He hadn't bothered to explain why he was so upset. Harry undressed for bed and lay down, wishing his head would stop hurting.

Tim would get over his snit or not. If he apologized enough, Harry would forgive him. Although, come to think of it, Tim still hadn't cleaned up his mouth.

There was a trememdous bang. Harry jumped out of his skin. He'd been right on the edge of sleep, just starting to dream.

"Master Harry, Kreacher has come with a message for you," the old elf said in his croaking voice as he bowed low, sticking his nose into the rug.

"From Sirius?"

"Noble Master is being very upset when he takes a firecall from the Muggle-loving headmaster of filth. Compassionate Master is breaking many things while searching for something. Then Clever Master is finding it and writing you a letter. Kreacher is being delivering the letter, for it is a pleasure to once again see the beautiful Slytherin dungeons. Old Kreacher had not thought to ever come again."

Harry took the proffered letter with an impatient "Thanks" and broke the wax seal. The envelope was heavy, much more than parchment warranted. Harry was intrigued by the small hand mirror he found.

_Harry,_ the letter said, _Dumbledore's just informed me. I'll be in Hogsmeade by morning, but I've sent Kreacher ahead with something to help now. I have another mirror, identical to the one you now hold. They are magically linked, and by speaking my name, you will be able to speak to me through the mirror. These mirrors are tied to you and me. Nobody else can use them. Try as soon as you get this message. Kreacher has orders to stay with you until we confirm that the mirrors work. I'll be waiting up._

Love,

Sirius

Harry sighed as he felt a great weight lift off of him. Sirius would know what to do. Sirius might even be able to figure a way out of his current predicament. Marauders were known for managing the impossible. In any case, at least he could hear some reassurances and comforting words.

He sat up in bed and pulled his legs up. "Kreacher, sit with me," he said.

Kreacher's big eyes got even bigger. "To sit with Master is presumptuous for lowly elves like Kreacher. Kreacher does not think grandly of himself, no, Kreacher does not."

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes. "It would displease me if you did not sit here with me," he said, carefully balancing his negatives.

Kreacher bowed his head and carefully climbed up. He perched on the foot board and watched Harry anxiously.

Darkness surrounded them as Harry closed the curtains around his bed. With a quiet whisper, Harry cast a Silencing Charm to prevent eavesdroppers. Even though nobody was around but the lads, Harry still didn't want them to hear every word he exchanged with Sirius. With privacy, he could express his weakness without reservation.

"Sirius!" he said, holding the mirror close to his mouth. "Sirius Black!"

"Harry Potter!" came Sirius' voice, no more loudly than the telephone.

"Sirius, it works!"

"That's great, Harry. Well done. Is Kreacher there?"

"He is."

"Well done, Kreacher. Thank you."

Kreacher bowed his head in the direction of Sirius' voice.

"So, Harry, are you all right? Not too shaken up?"

"It was rather unsettling." Being the fourth Champion was giving Harry another unwanted place in history. Bad enough to survive the Killing Curse while his parents were murdered. "Sirius, someone's trying to kill me."

"My first conclusion," Sirius agreed. "I knew you wouldn't fib about putting your name in the Goblet of Fire, no matter what Dumbledore suggested. 'If Harry did it,' I said to him, 'sure as taxes he'd be crowing about it. He's James' son, after all, and those mates of his aren't exactly what you'd call humble.'"

"Sirius!" Harry protested through a smile. It was true, which was why he couldn't get mad.

"He finally agreed that you hadn't done it. We discussed what it all means for a bit, and I told him I would be relocating to Hogsmeade immediately. I'd move in to the castle if he'd let me. I'm right here for you."

"Thanks, Padfoot," Harry said quietly.

"You're welcome. Now then, you keep me absolutely informed of anything that's going on. Something Dark is happening. No wonder Dumbledore wanted an Auror at the school. It can't be coincidence that this involves you. Keep your eyes wide open, and your chin up. Above all, listen to everything Professor Moody tells you. It's an even wager Dumbledore wanted him there to keep an eye on Karkaroff."

"Karkaroff? What about him? Why did he get so upset when he saw me?"

"He used to be a Death Eater. He was in Azkaban, but he did a deal with the Ministry. Claimed he'd seen the errors of his ways and named names. He put a load of people behind bars, and he's not at all popular on the inside. He's been teachings the Dark Arts to all his students ever since he got out, so watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well. That Dumbledore brought Moody on, when it was Moody who caught Karkaroff and put him into Azkaban in the first place, well, I'm glad someone is on the ball at least. It sure isn't the Ministry. Moody was one of the best."

"Oh yeah. He ambushed the seventh years."

"That sounds like him. Constant vigilance?"

"Constant vigilance."

Sirius chuckled. "Same old Moody. He'll keep you alive if you remember his lessons."

"I'll pay attention. Do you know what he's doing?"

"The Imperius Curse," Sirius replied shortly. "Practical, damn practical, but at your year excessive. You, I suppose I could be reasoned into allowing it, but your classmates? Dumbledore is playing with fire here."

"I threw it off."

"You _what_?"

"I threw it off. He couldn't make me jump up on the desk."

"Well done, Harry! Oh, your folks would be proud!"

Harry beamed. He'd have to remember that if he needed to cast a Patronus.

"Moony will be pleased too, I know it. Quite a powerful wizard, aren't you? Reminds me of me and Prongs during my fourth year."

"Yes, quite," Harry replied innocuously. Sirius would understand that to mean that his Animagus transformation was progressing nicely.

"Well it's late," Sirius said. "You need your sleep. Arithmancy in the morning, right?"

"Yeah. Vector's being brutal this year. Introduction to Magical Pre-Algebra for the whole term."

"It gets better. And it really is important. Once you hit O.W.L. level, you'll be remembering your current angst with fondness. Get to bed now. Call for me tomorrow, okay?"

"I will, Sirius. Good night."

"Good night, Harry."

Harry removed the Silencing Charm and drew back the curtains. Kreacher hurriedly scrambled to the floor and bowed. "Kreacher is returning to Master now. If Master Harry is being needing Kreacher, call for Kreacher, and Kreacher will come."

"Good night, Kreacher," Harry said, still feeling worlds better just by having spoken with his godfather.

Kreacher vanished with a bang, and Harry looked around to see his mates all giving him inquisitive glances. "Sirius says hi," Harry told them casually.

to be continued...


	12. What Other People Think

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Twelve - What Other People Think**

Harry rose early the next morning and took a hasty shower. He dressed rapidly and hurried out to the common room. The tapestry room was the closest room off the beaten track where he could be reasonably assured of a modicum of privacy while he practised his Animagus exercises. As he entered the common room, though, he stopped in his tracks.

"Good morning, Harry," Laine Slater said, smiling sweetly.

"Hi, Laine. What brings you to the common room so early?"

"You're an early riser, I've noticed."

"Quidditch practices," he answered succinctly. "Even though there's no Quidditch this year, I'm just used to it by now."

"Of course. But I also notice that the others don't."

"Not unless they have to."

"So it makes the perfect opportunity to speak with you," Laine concluded.

"Oh," Harry said, getting her point. "Well, how may I help you?"

"I wanted to express my strong belief that you have been set up by nefarious parties unknown." Laine declared in a firm tone. "The girls agree with me, and I'll make sure the boys do too. There's going to be a lot of vicious gossip going on. You know how the Hogwarts grapevine works."

Wasn't _that_ the truth?

"We're going to keep anyone below fourth year quiet if we have to hex all their mouths shut," Laine promised. "We can't do much above that. Pansy ought to be able to master your form. I hope you've got a plan for dealing with the uppers."

He had no plan. By Merlin's glasses, what was he thinking to go leaving the dorm without a plan? He shuddered with real dread about how ugly it could be to walk into the Great Hall without knowing what he would say.

Diggory was handsome and quite popular to judge from the applause that had thundered in the Great Hall last night. What would they have to say about the fourth year Slytherin who had stolen Hufflepuff's moment in the spotlight? Diggory was the real Hogwarts champion. There was no way Harry could, at this moment in time, beat the Hufflepuff sixth year. On a broom, Harry owned Diggory's skies, but with a wand, Harry was certain it would be a different story. But he was the Boy-Who-Lived, and now the Boy-Who-Cheated to get past the Age Line. They were going to eat him alive!

"Er-" Harry fumbled.

"Right," Laine said knowingly. "You need a really good public relations agent. No Slytherin should be without one. Until then, you've got me."

"Thanks."

"Now then, what made you put your name in the Goblet?"

Harry choked. "Hey, aren't you on my side?"

"Oh dear," Laine clucked, shaking her head. "That will never do. How did you cross the Age Line?"

"I didn't!"

"How does it feel to foil one of Dumbledore's tricks?"

"I didn't foil anything!"

"Harry, Harry," Laine rued. "Sputtered denials will not suffice. You need a prepared response to any line of questioning. 'The person who placed my name in the Goblet of Fire did not do so on my wishes. I am being set up by Dark forces who wish me harm. I ask for your kind thoughts during this arduous trial I am now magically compelled to endure.'"

Harry was amazed. "You came up with all that right now?"

"No, I worked on it last night."

"Wow." Harry was impressed. "Thanks." He repeated the three sentences several times. They sounded very good, very polished.

"We'll work on other things later. For now, don't you dare go anywhere by yourself. We have similar schedules this year, so you'll have lots of supporters nearby if anyone tries to start anything."

She knew his schedule?

"Like Gryffindors," Harry muttered, picturing Ron Weasley's sneering face. The git had been his usual unbearable self in Potions just yesterday. He was bound to be doubly worse tomorrow for double Potions.

"Ah, Gryffindors," Laine said with a patient sigh. "I sometimes wonder if there is any hope for them. I've been working on Ginny for just about a year now, and she's definitely got a lot of Slytherin in her, but I don't wonder at all why the Sorting Hat said Gryffindor. I never knew one of the Slytherin traits was patience, but I'm finding it within myself."

"You're a good person," Harry told her. "I know that."

Laine's smile made her eyes seem to sparkle. "Thank you, Harry. You are too. I don't know a lot of people who would have taken in a stray Gryffindor like that."

"I just didn't think it was right how her housemates shunned her. Everyone ought to have good friends they can count on."

"You sound like a Hufflepuff."

"Loyalty is not just for Hufflepuffs," he quoted from the house rules. He'd taken it to heart during the orientation meeting on his first day in Slytherin. Slytherins were a tightly-knit gang, even if their totem didn't travel in packs.

"Up Slytherin."

"Up Slytherin."

Some of the other third and fourth years came out of the dormitories at that point, and everyone headed up to breakfast. Harry kept his friends close around him throughout. Everyone in the Great Hall seemed to have a staring problem. Harry had sat with his back to the wall, not wanting anyone to be able to sneak up on him. All of the accusing eyes made him realize he should have risked that and faced the wall.

Still, nobody was brave enough to enter Slytherin territory and make a scene in front of the foreign visitors. Harry kept his face low and forked his food down as quickly as possible while still chewing slightly.

As the time for class drew near, Harry shouldered his bag, feeling as though he carried the weight of the world along with it. He tried to be resolute about it. One way or another, he had to face the school, so he might as well dive right in. Put the best face on it he could. Laine was right; he needed a public relations agent.

His walk to Arithmancy was interesting. In addition to Draco, Pansy, and Jenna, who were headed to the class as well, Laine, Ginny, and Michelle were off to Ancient Runes, which was nearby. It occurred to Harry as they walked that he and Draco looked rather dapper going about with a cluster of girls. He'd seen the same with Flint and the other lads on the team. It was quite nice, in its own way. Girls liked Quidditch stars, and Draco was the up-and-comer. His tales about playing Quodpot at the World Cup and "nearly thrashing" the American lads at their own game had garnered him large audiences in the common room.

The third year girls left them at the entrance to Arithmancy. Professor Vector hadn't arrived yet, and the classroom was empty. The Slytherins took their seats.

Harry had just finished arranging his quill, ink, and parchment when the door opened to admit Tim and Blaise. They didn't even look in Harry's direction before claiming the seats nearest the door. They bent their heads over a shared book and held a conversation in whispers.

"Well, well, well," said a voice. Harry looked up and saw Susan Bones standing a few feet away. Hannah Abbott was with her, and they both looked unhappy. Harry groaned inwardly.

"Nice trick, Potter," Susan said. "Right clever, aren't you?"

"I'm not clever at all. The person who placed my name in the Goblet of Fire did not do so on my wishes," he said, silently thanking Laine with all his heart. "I am being set up by Dark forces who wish me harm."

"That's a fancy speech," Hannah sneered. "I wonder how long he worked on it."

Harry bristled. "I didn't 'work on it' at all. Someone put my name in hoping I'd _die_. I am now magically compelled to compete in this tournament. I'm bleeding nixed!"

"Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch has dominated Hogwarts for the last seventy years," Susan said. "Now, something new comes long, a Hufflepuff gets a little recognition and some accolades, and a Slytherin is basking in the limelight."

"Do you think I wanted this?" Harry demanded. "Don't I have enough problems being who I am already? Why would I want to add to that?"

"Ambition," Hannah spat, treating the word like it was dirty.

Harry felt like he'd been slapped. She had named one of the core values of Slytherin House. The drive to succeed, to be the best, was strong and had led many wizards down a Dark path. Ambition for recognition had indeed driven many Slytherins to submit their names to the Goblet of Fire, but Harry didn't think any of them were headed for a Dark destiny. And Harry didn't want to conquer anything. He had no wish to rule the world.

"Watch your mouth, Abbott," Pansy said sharply. "Ambition is just another name for work ethic."

"We do honest work. Cedric is evidence of that. You do sneaky tricks to win."

"Diggory is evidence of Merlin's Blessing as effective and relevant magic in a modern age."

"Now that's just insulting!" Susan snapped.

"Both of you can shoo. I can't be disturbed right now. I'm about to write a letter to the gossip pages about how the niece of the Em-El-Eey Head was found in a compromising situation with the school caretaker and his cat."

"That's disgusting!"

"Isn't it?" Pansy asked casually. "I happen to know the editor personally, and he owes Daddy a favour, so he'll do anything I ask him to hoping that Daddy will call it even."

Harry knew Pansy was only protecting him, but did she really have to make such vile threats? To Susan? He'd expected it for Gryffindors and Weasleys, but Susan had caught him off-guard.

"You've made your point," Draco said coldly, glaring ominously at the two Hufflepuffs. "You're upset, and Harry told you he didn't do it. Unless you'd care to say something other than, "We hate Slytherins", I suggest you sit down."

Susan and Hannah took seats as far away from the Slytherins as they could. When Ernie MacMillan arrived a few minutes later with most of the Ravenclaws, they waved them all to the far side of the room. When the two quiet Gryffindor girls joined them as well, Harry recognized what was happening:

Slytherin was being shunned.

He could understand the Hufflepuffs' attitude, even if he didn't like it; they had their own champion to support. He expected nothing less than vicious insults from the Gryffindors; he was highly unpopular there and always had been, because he had helped Slytherin beat them so often, both at Quidditch and in the Inter-House Championship. But he had hoped the Ravenclaws might have found it in their hearts to support him as much as Cedric. He was supposed to be friends with Terry, Padma, and Mandy at the least, but even their reactions to him were frosty. If he had to go through History, Herbology, Potions, and every elective class for the whole year with this awful attitude, he was likely to go spare. Thankfully he could make it through the rest of the day without having to see any non-Slytherins, but to top it all, his last class today was double Transfiguration. Lovely.

Higgs and Rosier called a meeting of the house that evening. All Slytherins were required to report to the common room after dinner. The prefects sat together at the top of the room, drawing all eyes to them. When the door had finally slid shut and all noses had been counted, Higgs got to his feet.

"I don't know how everyone else's day went today, but the other houses are treating us like something you'd scrape off your shoe. They're all convinced that Harry Potter got himself into the tournament through evil, Dark magic and want to know which of us taught it to him. Harry, what do you have to say for yourself? We're all friends here. Did you do it?"

Harry rose as well. He was a touch nervous with his whole house watching him. "The person who put my name in the Goblet of Fire did not do so on my wishes. I am being set up by Dark forces who wish me harm. I compete only because I am magically compelled to do so, and I can use all the kind thoughts I can get." He saw Laine nodding her head, a brilliant smile on her face.

"Fair enough," Higgs said. "We've defended your good name before, Potter. We know the routine. You just beat Diggory, and I'll call it even."

"The Hogwarts gossip mill is presently going berserk over this," Rosier said, her new gold badge shining on her chest. "We need to stand up for our own. Even if you think Harry did put his name in-"

"If you think that, you'd better keep quiet about it unless you want your name and Filch's linked in the scandal section!" Pansy interjected.

"-it's no call for the way the other houses are acting. It is your duty to support Harry and his official position."

Draco stood up. "I know we were all celebrating last night, but my friend says he didn't do it. I believe him. There's absolutely no motive. He doesn't need money, and he doesn't need fame. If you know him at all, you know Harry hates being famous like he is. I believe Dark forces are at work here. Let's give Harry all the help we can."

"Agreed," Higgs concluded. "Now then, since I have you all here, there has been a motion filed to make a change in the unofficial rules. As it presently stands, the third rule reads 'If you do get caught, deny everything and blame someone else.' The proposal is to add the sentence 'Never blame another Slytherin.' I now call for discussion. Ellen?"

"Well, if we're going to talk about blame, let's look at the first two rules as well. Those could go together too."

"Yeah," Lila Murdock agreed. "I've always thought the first three went really well together. I say we combine all four sentences in to one rule."

"Hang on, hang on," Higgs cautioned the two girls. "You can't go proposing new motions before we've voted on the current one."

"Aww, take your parliamentary procedure and stuff it," Montague opined. "It's getting in the way."

"Two points from Slytherin for disrespecting a prefect," Higgs shot back. "But very well. So if I understand your intention properly, Lila, you want to revise rule one to read 'Never take the blame for anything. To avoid taking blame, never get caught. If you do get caught, deny everything and blame a non-Slytherin.'"

"Yes."

"All in favour?"

There was a resounding chorus of yays.

"All opposed?"

There were no voices of opposition.

"Abstentions?"

None.

"Very well," said Higgs. "The first rule is so amended. And since there is apparently no respect for civilized conduct, I declare rules two and three voided by fiat."

"Now you're talking!" Montague sassed him.

"Do we wish to move the other rules up in the list?"

"Are we eliminating rule six as well? There is no rule six." Warrington the Third asked the question.

"That would cut the list down to five," said Heather Chandler, sixth year prefect.

"I've always liked it," Samantha Warrington, fifth year prefect, declared. "It's funny, and it's silly."

"We can still keep it," her older brother assured with widespread hands. "I think it would make a great tag to the list, myself."

"The motion is to consolidate the numbering of the list to five, with rule six being non-existent and recognized as such."

"Higgs, you ought to go in to the Ministry," Montague said with a smirk. It was obviously not a compliment.

Higgs ignored him. "All in favour?"

"Aye," they voted.

"Against?"

There were no nays.

"Abstentions?"

"What were we talking about?" Bole piped up.

"One abstention. Motion passes. Please make note of the new order for next year's firsties, Bletchley."

"On it."

"Other business?" Higgs asked. There was nothing. "Then back to your books."

Two weeks passed in relative quiet. Harry still had accusing eyes following him everywhere, but Pansy's threats to spread vile slander about anyone who dared press Harry too harshly kept the glares from becoming diatribes. Harry wished it wasn't necessary to resort to such brutal tactics, but it was worse than when he'd been thought the Heir of Slytherin. Now he was called a thief, stealing Hufflepuff's time in the spotlight.

Harry could help but feel that part of the reason people were so rabid about Diggory was that Cedric _looked_ the part of a champion so much more than Harry did. Exceptionally handsome, with his straight nose, dark hair, and grey eyes, it was hard to say who was receiving more admiration these days: Diggory or Viktor Krum. Harry actually saw the same sixth-year girls who had been so keen to get Krum's autograph begging Cedric to sign their school bags one lunchtime.

The biggest annoyance was Ron Weasley, who'd taken to treating Harry like a famous Quidditch star himself. He was constantly calling Harry "the champion" and asking for autographs and flying tips. It was even worse than his usual viciousness, because he could get away with it in front of teachers. But at least Weasley couldn't run his mouth in Potions class. If he did, Professor Snape would take points (more points) and Harry or Draco or both of them would sabotage Weasley's potions, earning him detention (more detention).

The Wednesday before the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, they were paying close attention as Professor Snape lectured.

"One of the most important potions one can brew is the antidote. There are thousands of poisons, and every one of them has an antidote _if_ you understand the magical properties of the components of the poison. There are ways to determine the identity of a poison, and those of you who survive to take N.E.W.T. Potions will do so, but for today, you will all be preparing the antidote to a very basic poison known as Nealer's Winterbark. At the end of the lesson, we will be testing your antidotes. Now then-"

There came a knock at the door to the classroom. Snape flicked his wand, and it opened to reveal a small Gryffindor.

"Yes?"

"Please, sir, I was sent to fetch Harry Potter for the Weighing of the Wands."

Harry groaned. Why did they have to pull him out of his favourite class?

"Mister Potter, you are called to defend the great name of Slytherin," Professor Snape said dryly, sounding very amused. "Do us proud."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, trying not to despair.

He was led to a fairly small classroom; most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle; however, three of them had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks.

Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Cedric and Fleur were in conversation. Fleur looked a good deal happier than Harry had seen her so far; she kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the light. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye.

Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of the chairs at the table, talking to a witch Harry had met once before. He waved casually to her, and she perked up with a great smile. Bagman turned to see who his conversation companion was grinning at, spotted Harry, got up quickly, and bounded forward.

"Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come. Nothing to worry about. It's just the wand weighing ceremony. The rest of the judges will be here in a moment."

"Wand weighing?" Harry repeated nervously.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional. No problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," said Bagman. "The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore, and then there's going to be a little photoshoot. This is Rita Skeeter," he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. "She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the _Daily Prophet_."

"Maybe not that small, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes on Harry.

"Hello, Rita," Harry said warmly.

"Harry, so good to see you again. What _have_ you been up to?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," he joked, gesturing around himself with a depreciating grin on his face.

Rita tittered. "Oh, Harry, what _will_ we do with you?"

"Make me look as good as possible? I'll need all the help I can get. I've been getting loads of hatemail ever since my name came out of that Goblet. Someone tried to send me a pretty nasty hex this morning." Harry needed to improve his public relations. Rita had told him to call on her if he ever needed a friend in journalism. Those two things did not seem incompatible to Harry.

Rita stood up a bit straighter. "I'll tell your side of this story, but I've got to know everything. You must sit down with me after this little ceremony is over."

"I will."

"Ah, Rita, you've found Mister Potter, I see."

"Dumbledore!" cried Rita, with every appearance of delight. "How _are_ you?" she said, holding out one hand to the headmaster. "I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards' Conference?"

"Enchantingly nasty," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat."

Rita Skeeter didn't look remotely abashed.

"I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned, Dumbledore, and that many wizards in the street-"

"I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita," said Dumbledore, with a courteous bow and a smile, "but I'm afraid we will have to discuss the matter later. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start."

The other champions were now sitting, and Harry quickly joined them. At the velvet-covered table, four of the five judges were now sitting: Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Percy Weasley (filling in again for Mr. Crouch), and Ludo Bagman. Rita Skeeter settled herself down in a corner; Harry saw her slip the parchment out of her bag again, spread it on her knee, suck the end of her quill, and place it on the parchment.

"May I introduce Mister Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges' table and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

Harry looked around and, with a jolt of surprise, saw an old wizard with large, pale eyes standing quietly by the window. Harry had met Mr. Ollivander before. He was the wand-maker from whom Harry had bought his own wand over three years ago in Diagon Alley and whom Sirius had gone to when he needed a new wand following the announcement of his innocence.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Hmm," he said.

He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton, and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it chose to his eyes and examined it carefully.

"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches. Inflexible. Rosewood and containing, dear me-"

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," said Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

So Fleur _was_ part veela, thought Harry, making a mental note to tell Tim. Then he remembered that Tim was presently being an insufferable, hateful jackanapes.

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps.

"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands; however, to each his own, and if this suits you, so much the better."

Harry suddenly got very nervous. Four summers ago, on his eleventh birthday, he had tried what felt like every wand in Mr. Ollivander's shop, until at last he had found the one that suited him. It was made of holly, eleven inches long, and contained a single feather from the tail of a phoenix. Mr. Ollivander had been very surprised that Harry had been so compatible with this wand. The phoenix feather in Harry's wand had come from the same bird that had supplied the core of Lord Voldemort's.

The only people who knew that were Harry, Draco, and Mrs. Malfoy, who had all been in the shop. Harry had told Sirius, and he could presume that Mr. Malfoy knew as well. It was the sort of private information that he knew they knew better than to gossip about. He was very fond of his wand, and as far as he was concerned its relation to Voldemort's wand was something it couldn't help - rather as he couldn't help being related to Aunt Petunia. However, he really hoped that Mr. Ollivander wasn't about to tell the room about it. It would be just like the Ministry to try and confiscate his wand on happenstance evidence.

"Very good," said Mr. Ollivander. "Which leaves Mister Potter."

Lost in his thoughts, Harry started back to reality as everyone looked expectantly at him. He got to his feet and walked past Krum to Mr. Ollivander. He handed over his wand.

"Aaaah, yes," said Mr. Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."

Mr. Ollivander spent a very long time examining Harry's wand. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.

"Thank you all," said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges' table. "You may go back to your lessons now - or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end-"

The man with the black camera jumped up and cleared his throat.

"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" cried Bagman excitedly. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"

"Er - yes, let's do those first," said Rita Skeeter, whose eyes were upon Harry again. "And then perhaps some individual shots."

The photographs took a long time. Madame Maxime cast everyone else into shadow wherever she stood, and the photographer couldn't stand far enough back to get her into the frame; eventually she had to sit while everyone else stood around her. Karkaroff kept twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra curl; Krum, whom Harry would have thought would have been used to this sort of thing, skulked, half-hidden, at the back of the group. The photographer seemed keenest to get Fleur at the front. Rita insisted on getting separate shots of all the champions.

At last, they were free to go. Harry lingered as Rita Skeeter had a private word with the photographer, and then she beamed brilliantly at him. "Shall we, Harry?"

They went two doors down to an empty classroom and sat down at a pair of desks. Rita pulled out a bright blue quill and set it up on a piece of parchment. She folded her hands and looked deeply at Harry.

"How does it feel to make history, Harry?"

Harry chuckled. "I just can't seem to stop, can I?" he asked sarcastically. "I do have a bit of a statement prepared. 'The person who placed my name in the Goblet of Fire did not do so on my wishes. I am being set up by Dark forces who wish me harm. I ask for the public's kind thoughts during this arduous trial I am now magically compelled to endure.'"

Rita was smiling as she finished the dictation with a flourish. "A wonderful statement, Harry. I'll have the public on your side by breakfast, or I'll snap my quill."

"Anything else?"

"I can take your three sentences and spin a whole article. Now then, what can you tell me about what's actually going on?"

"Not much. They don't exactly invite me to their meetings. But Professor Moody thinks it might have been a powerful Confundus Charm and my name put in under a fourth school. As I'd be the only one from this phoney school, I'd be the champion."

"That makes sense. Mad-Eye Moody, you say?"

"Yes."

"Good. He's got a bit of a reputation, but he was one of the best, so that'll go a long way. How does your godfather feel about this? He's only just got you back, and now you're in mortal peril."

"Sirius? He's worried, of course. He's taken a room in Hogsmeade to be near the castle. I very much appreciate his support."

"Such a display of emotion will leave Britain's witches all aflutter," Rita noted with a slight smirk. "I don't suppose you could persuade him to talk to me. Witch Weekly would love to get their hands on it."

"What's in it for him?" Harry replied.

Rita laughed merrily. "I'll come up with something."

"I'll see what he thinks. No promises."

"Very good. Are you dating anyone?"

Harry choked. The question had caught him completely off-guard. He felt certain his skin was as red as an apple. Rita politely waited for him to get his composure back.

"Not at the moment," Harry said, wishing she hadn't asked.

"Any prospects?"

"Some." He refused to say any more.

Rita laughed again. "Okay, Harry, I'll stop teasing you. Do you have anything to say about your fellow champions?"

"Like what?"

"It's traditional for the champions to strut a little and boast about how well they will do and how poorly their competition will fare."

"I don't really know Diggory all that well, but I'm better than him at Quidditch. He managed to trick me a couple of years ago, but I've learned a lot since then. Fleur Delacour is no doubt a very talented witch. I'm not sure how her veela heritage is going to affect things. Krum is an amazing Quidditch player, as we all know, and he's the best Durmstrang has to offer. I know that school's reputation is well-earned."

"What about the visitors in general?"

"The French don't seem to like it here too much. I think they're being unaccountably rude. Of course, we welcome our friends from Durmstrang, who joined Slytherin - my house, you know - at the welcoming feast."

As if on cue, Harry's stomach rumbled. He blushed slightly; such behaviour was more the trademark of Goyle or Crabbe.

"Oh, you boys," Rita sighed knowingly. "I've got what I needed, Harry, and I can make up the rest. Enjoy your dinner."

"Bye, Rita."

BOY-WHO-LIVED BECOMES TRIWIZARD CHAMPION

by Rita Skeeter

The Triwizard Tournament, long relegated to the pages of history books, has come once again to Hogwarts. Through the efforts of the Departments of Magical Sports and Games and International Magical Cooperation, our beloved alma mater is playing host to guests from Beauxbatons Academy and Durmstrang Institute. Will this attempt prove any more successful than similar efforts over the past hundred years? Only time will tell, but already the tournament is awash in scandal, for an unexpected fourth champion's name emerged from the Goblet of Fire. That champion's name is Harry Potter.

Mr. Potter's tale is known throughout our whole world and hardly bears repeating, or even summarizing, here. Let it be said merely that our present peace and prosperity are due to him. But with the recent Dark stirrings at the World Cup, can anyone doubt that nefarious wizards of malign purpose engineered Mr. Potter's participation in the tournament? The Tasks are daunting, even life-threatening. Who other than Death Eaters would wish to see harm come to Harry Potter?

"Mad-Eye" Moody, one of the most fearsome Aurors to survive the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and now teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School, believes that a powerful Confundus Charm was used to trick the Goblet of Fire, a feat of magic no ordinary witch or wizard could accomplish.

Lucius Malfoy, 40, one of the Hogwarts governors had this to say: "We [the governors] are investigating the situation most thoroughly. But all we can do is uncover the truth. The participants are magically bound to compete. We shall of course do our best to make sure that Mr. Potter makes it through unscathed, but he's quite the resourceful wizard. He may surprise us all. Every tournament is plagued with troubles. Why should this be any different? It makes things rather exciting, wouldn't you say?"

Harry does not stand alone. His godfather, Sirius Black, recently exonerated after a lengthy false imprisonment, has moved to the village of Hogsmeade in order to be closer to the castle. His support could not be more clear, Harry says, and it is a great comfort as this arduous trial begins.

Alas, young Harry has not yet found a love to sustain his heart. Harry admits that one girl has yet to catch his eye, but that there are possibilities. His friend Pansy Parkinson confirmed to this reporter that Harry has not yet had a steady girlfriend but there's lots of interest. Which lucky girl will snare him? Miss Parkinson isn't giving hints.

All of Britain's thoughts are surely with Harry as he engages one of the most difficult challenges ever at the tender age of fourteen. Let us wish him the best of luck as he fights for his life, his good name, and the glory of Hogwarts.

The other champions are Flour Delacour of Beauxbatons and Viktor Krum of Drumstrang, who caught the Snitch at the World Cup for Bulgaria. Also competing from Hogwarts is Sedgewick Diggory.

The two days between the Weighing of the Wands and the Hogsmeade Weekend were nearly unbearable for Harry. Having his wand inspected by Mr. Ollivander and talking to Rita Skeeter had convinced him that he wasn't really living some nightmare. He really was a Triwizard champion, and he was scared to death. He had horrible nightmares, even in the daytime, of what sorts of nasty things were going to happen to him. Perhaps it would be giants, or maybe they'd have to duel with mocked-up Death Eaters. Harry even heard a rumour that there would be a rousing round of "Who can get closest to the Dementor?"

More than anything he wanted to talk to Sirius in person. His godfather had a way of looking at things that made even the grim seem laughable. It helped that they could communicate every night via the enchanted mirror, but there was something reassuring about his godfather's presence. Harry definitely needed reassuring that he wasn't in imminent mortal peril.

His imagination was providing plenty of material on its own, so Harry was rubbed particularly raw when Ron Weasley would offer his own input. Harry, Draco, and the ever-present cluster of girls were waiting for the stairs to shift so they could ascend to the Owlery when the hated voice intruded upon Harry's reality.

"Hey, it's the champion! Hey champ, sport, pal, have you heard any word on what the first task is? I heard they're bringing in the whole Auror division, and the champions have to escape being captured. But that should be no problem for you, champ. Right? You know how to get away clean, don't you, Slytherin?"

"Yeah, because we're smart enough to not get caught like a thick-headed Gryffindor," Harry sneered, turning around. Weasley, Thomas, and Finnigan looked to be coming from class. They were near Gryffindor tower, Harry realized.

"Gryffindors are clumsy at crime because we don't do it very often. We're not practiced like you slippery snakes."

"A Gryffindor betrayed my parents, Weasley," Harry snarled. "A Gryffindor named Scabbers, wasn't it?"

Weasley looked like he didn't appreciate the reminder.

"Clear off, Ron," Ginny said, stepping up next to Harry. "You're only going to embarrass yourself."

"You're the embarrassment, Ginny! Turning on your house, on your family, supporting a cheater and a liar!

"Harry didn't cheat! He's been set up!"

"Yeah, I know what the paper said."

"You can read, Weasley? Interesting."

"Shut up, Potter. I know you've got Rita Skeeter in your dark little pocket. My father told me all about her and what she believes in. It must be nice to be able to put your propaganda directly out there masking as news."

"Some of us have friends who are sympathetic when things go badly," Draco snapped. "Not that you'd know about having friends. What do you have to do to keep that pair around, or is it too vulgar for the ladies' delicate ears?"

"Ron's been right about you all along," Finnigan said. "I thought he were just exaggerating cause of his dad and your dad, but not a year goes by that there ain't some shenanigans with Potter at the centre of it all."

"Yeah," Thomas agreed. "And I'm tired of being called a Mudblood."

"Congratulations, you're idiots," Jenna said flippantly.

Ginny looked ready to burst. She was practically chest to chest with her brother now, and Harry had never seen her so angry. "Harry saved my life, Ron. Great bloody basilisk that he defeated, remember? You should thank him, but you hate him for it. You can't forgive him for doing such an unselfish thing, can you? Because it doesn't fit with your mental framework of what a Slytherin is. Is that why you hate me too? Because Slytherin isn't where I 'belong'?"

At the reminder of Harry's heroism, Weasley looked even more uncomfortable.

"Just apologize, Ron," Ginny implored. "Admit you were wrong about him and move on."

"If there's anyone who should admit they're wrong and apologize, it's you and Percy! I'm not wrong about them, Ginny! They dragged me and Seamus off in first year and hexed us for at least fifteen minutes. They're constantly trying to muck with me in Potions class. They jump out from under rocks and throw hexes all around-"

"Not all around, Weasley. We have excellent aim," Jenna interjected.

"They admit it!" he howled. "Ginny, they just want to use you for Dark purposes. They're being nice so you'll do what they want you to do."

Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously. "Are you saying I'm too feeble-minded to think for myself? That I need noble, heroic Ronald the Brave to save me from the evil Slytherins? _That_ noble Slytherin _did_ save me, and I believe him when he says he didn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire! There's some foul villain around here intent on mayhem and murder."

"The only villains causing mayhem are you and Percy! Together you've torn the family apart!"

"You've done your share too! I don't think you could have whined much louder about not getting to go to the World Cup!"

Ron flushed. "I apologized for that."

"Only because Mum made you."

"Would you children like to be left alone?" Pansy interrupted condescendingly. "Airing the dirty laundry in public, my word. How uncouth. I expected little better from Weasleys. I'm disappointed, Laine. You said she was doing so much better. This little display is far too gauche."

Reminded of their audience, the siblings took a step back. Ron glared at Pansy. "Don't talk to my sister that way."

"Do you even know what gauche means, Weasley?" Pansy sneered. "What about you, Weasley? Do you have a justification for your behaviour? Laine spoke so highly of you."

"She has been getting better," Laine stated flatly, eyeing Ginny disapprovingly. "Didn't I tell you not to shout at him? You always lose your temper and start shouting."

Ginny looked like she wanted to keep arguing, but she shot her brother one last glare before storming off towards the Owlery. Weasley watched her go before turning to the other Slytherins with a dirty look. He motioned to Thomas and Finnigan with his head, and the three Gryffindors headed down the stairs.

Harry had asked Ginny to send her brother Percy a letter inquiring in a roundabout fashion what the first Task was. Percy's reply had been to send word of their brother Charlie and the important role he had in dialogue with the Romanian Ministry. It had been obtuse enough, but the message was clear:

Dragons. The First Task involved dragons somehow.

By Merlin's spotless undergarments, how the hell could he defeat a dragon?

Harry and Sirius had arranged to meet outside of the Hog's Head, for the sake of privacy more than anything else. Harry was one of the first to rise, break his fast, and bolt for the castle doors. He practically ran down the path, though he convinced himself that anyone watching would merely assume he was out jogging.

Sirius was right where he'd said he would be, and Harry began running in earnest. He squeezed Sirius hard around the middle, and the return pressure of Sirius' arms sheltering him from the world was the most euphoric medicine for his troubled mind.

"My boy," Sirius whispered, "when I find the damned Death Eater that got you in to this mess, they might send me back to Azkaban - if they can find the evidence!"

"Don't even joke about that," Harry said, his voice muffled against Sirius' chest. "You don't joke about Azkaban."

"Sorry."

Harry didn't want to let go, but they were in public. He cleared his throat. For some reason he was very choked up. Sirius released him, reluctantly it seemed.

"So, ready to see London?"

"Are we seriously going?" Harry was amazed. "On the permission form, it says we're only allowed Hogsmeade."

Sirius smiled. "I read through the form when it was sent to me for signature, and I saw nothing in it that says I can't take you off the grounds. The motorbike is parked around to the side."

"Wicked!" Harry shouted. A nice long ride would be just the thing to take his mind off his troubles.

"We'll head for London, grab a quick bite at the Leaky, and then it's time for me to show you something new." The gleam in Sirius' eye was unmistakable.

Harry wanted to skip lunch and get right to the Animagus lesson, but he knew it would go better if he had a full stomach. Apparating was best done on an empty stomach, Sirius had advised him, but the Animagus transformation took tremendous energy.

Harry strapped his helmet on and let out a whoop of excitement as the old motorbike soared in to the sky. The wind rushing in his face reminded him of Quidditch, and Harry resolved to make time for flying at least once a week.

They were up above the clouds now, hiding from the view of Muggles below. Sirius dipped the tires down and left tremendous swirls in their wake. They encountered some birds flying south, and the birds were content to allow them to fly point for quite a few miles.

As they approached London, Sirius brought the motorbike in for a landing. With a jarring thud, gravity took command over them again. Harry held on tight as Sirius zoomed through the streets, dodging cars and double-deckers with awesome skill. They came to a screeching halt outside the Leaky Cauldron, and several Muggle women turned to give Sirius the once-over.

It took several moments for Harry's eyes to adjust to the dim light inside the inn. It was quite full of people, for it was lunch time, but Sirius led the way to a private booth in the back where a small card read "Reserved".

At the table, Harry quickly decided on the steak special that Sirius had been so enthusiastic about. When the waiter had taken their orders, Harry sighed with relief. At last.

"I'm so glad to see you, I can't even say," Harry told his godfather earnestly. "I'm in so much trouble."

"We'll get through this, Harry," Sirius promised. "No matter what they throw at us, we'll never give up."

"It's dragons, Sirius."

"What now?"

"Dragons. The first Task is dragons."

"Dragons," Sirius repeated. "Big, angry, scaly lizards with giant razor claws and breathing fire dragons?"

"Yeah."

Sirius looked ready to spit fire himself. "Well," he said after a moment or two, "I happen to know a bit about dragons. Their weak spot is in the eyes. I think if you hit it with a big enough spell - Bludgeoner would work if it were strong enough, though the Conjunctivitis Curse would actually be better - if it's big enough, you'll be able to blind it and get by it. Do you know what the goal is?"

"No. I just know it's dragons."

"And what is the source of this information?"

"I have a friend involved with running the tournament."

"He's not just pulling your chain?"

"No, it's dragons all right."

"Okay, Harry. Now then, dragons are very quick. They can cover distance in a very short time. They can stomp on you, slash you, cook you, and eat you if so inclined. I want you to set up a way where you can practice dodging. Get all your friends together and have them cast hexes at you. If you can dodge a spell, you can dodge a dragon."

The steaks appeared then, and any further discussion of strategy was put on hold for the all-important task of enjoying the fine slice of cow that had been delicately seasoned and now melted in the mouth.

When at last they had put down knife and fork and pushed their plates away, Harry groaned with delight. "I ate too much," he bemoaned, "but I just couldn't stop."

"I know," Sirius agreed. "I do this nearly every day. Every day it's the same thing. I can never manage to save any to take home in a doggy bag. I'm half-tempted to order two, but I'd probably eat it all anyway!"

They slowly made their way to the street and eased themselves on to the motorbike. Sirius kept a sedate pace on the short distance back to Grimmauld Place. Inside, Sirius cast a lazy Levitation Charm to bring both himself and Harry up to the sitting room, where they sat facing each other in padded leather chairs.

"Close your eyes, and clear your mind of all thoughts, all concerns. There is only you and only me and the sound of my voice. Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus yourself inwards. Somewhere inside you there is an animal ready to come out. Breathe in. Breath out. Concentrate on your head, for the eyes are the windows to the soul. Concentrate on your chest, for the heart is where the soul resides. What is your other form? Breathe in. Breathe out. You are your own master. Your soul is your own. Reveal your nature."

Harry didn't know what he was supposed to feel, but he guessed that nothing wasn't it. He supposed it was like Muggle martial arts which involved a lot of meditation (and lots of ninja-kicking). Then he was thinking about the Bruce Lee movie he'd managed to watch nearly all the way through one evening at Privet Drive.

_Stop it_, he thought sternly. _Nothing, nothing, nothing. There's an animal in my soul. I have a soul. I have a soul? What is a soul? And why does it hang around in this body? Why am I here? Why are any of us here? And why do people do what they do? Do they know why they're here? Do they know why _we're_ here? Where is here? And why is it here? And how did it get here? Was it always here, or did-_

His rambling train of thought was quickly derailing any attempts at meditation. He wrenched his thoughts back from contemplating the purpose of the universe and tried to focus on himself.

Sirius' breathing was a helpful thing to focus, and Harry consciously matched his pace. In and out. Inhale, exhale.

They sat there for ages. Harry did his best to concentrate, but finally he said, "Gah!" and shook his head in disgust. "I don't even know if I'm doing it right."

"You're doing fine, Harry. You must have patience."

"It's been hours, and I don't feel a thing."

Sirius looked very amused. "It's been ten minutes. You've lost track of time. That's good. That means you're focusing on yourself."

They kept at it for another frustrating two hours, before Sirius declared that Harry had done very well and it was time to get back to Hogsmeade.

"The trip isn't quick, even by motorbike. You'll barely make the start of dinner as it is."

"We could Floo back to the Three Broomsticks."

"That we could. Very well, if that's what you prefer."

to be continued...


	13. The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Thirteen - The Waiting Is The Hardest Part**

As they filed out of the Potions laboratory on Monday morning, Snape called out for Harry to remain behind. "Mister Potter? A word, if you please."

"Yes, sir?"

Snape closed and locked the door with a wave of his wand. Then he gave another wave and whispered something Harry didn't catch.

"There. Now we may speak privately."

"Is something wrong, Professor?"

"Officially, I am not to provide you with any help through the course of the Triwizard Tournament." Snape paused and smiled in a self-satisfied sort of way. "Officially. However, given that your participation is unwilling, and more importantly that your entry is subsequent to you becoming a member of Slytherin House, I do not find such prohibition valid or binding. Moreover, while Professor Dumbledore may espouse such high-minded nonsense about fair play and sportsmanship, Maxime and Karkaroff have no such delusions. Cheating is one of the fine traditions of the tournament. They will be playing to win. I will, of course, provide you with any help I am able."

Harry gasped in shock. Snape was skilled in every area of magic, excelling in Potions and Defence. He was no slouch at Transfiguration or Charms either. Best of all, he was Slytherin's Head of House, an example of the best. Snape was crafty, calculating, and cunning on display. He had to keep a lid on the most ambitious and driven students in the school.

"That's wonderful news, sir!" Harry managed to say. He'd wished for Snape's help, and now he had it. Thank Merlin!

"I have only just learned the ridiculous nature of the first Task," Snape continued. "You are going to be confronted with a dragon."

"I know, sir."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? And what do you plan to do about it?"

"Well, Sirius recommended a Conjunctivitis Curse since the eyes are the weakest spot."

Snape shook his head. "I might have expected such an insane idea from a Gryffindor. One wizard taking on a dragon head-on? Mister Potter, you would not stand a chance, Lucius Malfoy's polite words in the paper notwithstanding. Your godfather is missing the point. Do you know the precise nature of the Task?"

"No, sir."

"The Task is to retrieve a golden egg from a nest of simulacra being guarded by the dragon."

"How did you find out, sir?"

"I was called upon to brew the potion that simulates the smell of real eggs and makes the dragons protect them. The goal is not to defeat the dragon; the dragon is misdirection. The goal is to get the egg."

"How do I get the egg if I don't defeat the dragon?"

"Distraction. Diversion. Make the dragon focus on something else just like those who designed the Task are making you focus on the dragon. Dragons usually love fresh meat. Beef or swine will do nicely. Can you turn stone to flesh?"

"Barely."

"I recommend you practice. But it is better to not rely on new and untried skills. What strengths do you possess that would work to your advantage?"

Precisely the question Harry had been asking himself. He was good at Quidditch, but that was no good in defeating a dragon. He was good at Potions, but he wouldn't have time to brew anything, though he did suppose he might borrow a flame from the dragon. He hadn't learned anything in Defence that would help against a dragon, except for maybe the Imperius Curse, and he could hardly do that in front of the student body and half the world. He certainly wasn't about to try practising it on his friends, either.

"About all I'm good for is playing Quidditch, sir, but that's no use against a dragon. I could hardly hit a Bludger at it."

"Ah!" Snape said with a pointed finger. "Quidditch is more than a game, though. You are an excellent flyer. Do you not see how this can help you achieve your goal?"

Harry had considered his flying skills of no use in _defeating_ a dragon, but if the goal was to retrieve something the dragon was guarding- "It would let me be quicker, sir. I could fly in and grab the egg." As he spoke, Harry felt himself believing his own words. "It would be just like a Snitch or even Longbottom's stupid Rememberall back in first year."

Snape looked very satisfied that Harry had worked it out on his own. "Just like a Snitch."

Harry couldn't believe it. He'd been worried about accurately casting an unfamiliar curse and dodging jets of fire. All he had to do was get hold of his broom and the Task would be as good as won.

"I just need to figure out how to get my Firebolt." The competitors were allowed only their wands for the first Task.

"You have already covered with Professor Flitwick the spell perfectly suited to that need."

"The Summoning Charm." A spell he knew! He wasn't phenomenal at it, but at least it worked for him. Crabbe, Millie, and Pansy had never succeeded.

Snape's slight smile broadened by the smallest of margins. "You see, Mister Potter? You do not need my help at all."

Harry was in a daze as he left the classroom. Draco, Pansy, and Jenna had waited for him. He incredulously said, "I know how to get past the dragon."

Pansy and Jenna gasped. "How?" Draco asked.

"I just need to be able to Summon my broom."

"From the dormitory through the common room, out the wall, through the corridors, out the front gate, and in to the stadium?" Draco sounded sceptical. "That's a heck of a long way."

"I know. Maybe I should keep it in the broom shed for a night."

"That would work. Isn't the lock on the shed broken?"

"It is?"

"It will be. So old Snape told you how to win?"

They began to head for the Great Hall.

"Yeah. I have to retrieve a golden egg from a dragon nest. He says the dragon is just misdirection."

"I wonder what's so important about the egg."

"Snape didn't say. I don't know if he knows."

"I'm sure he'd tell you if he did," Pansy said confidently.

"Me too. He said my being a Slytherin was more important than some silly rule, especially given how I've been set up."

"He's completely right. I bet Professor Vector would help if you asked her nicely."

"I may do that. I wonder what advanced Arithmancy could help me do?"

"You'd have to understand the numbers," Pansy sighed. "You'd have the best chance of any of us."

Throughout lunch, Harry wrestled with an important question. Professor Snape had told him that the other champions were going to have help from their teachers. Had anyone told Diggory? It really wasn't fair if he were the only one who didn't know. Hufflepuffs played fair, even to a fault, but it didn't sit well with Harry to let Diggory go in to the first Task unprepared. Harry didn't know what he would have done if he had only learned about the dragons a few minutes before the Task. Would Diggory?

He wouldn't, Harry decided. Hagrid hadn't quite gotten enough courage to try introducing his top students to dragons - it was only a matter of time - and Harry had never heard any of the older Slytherins discussing the topic either.

Harry would have to tell him.

But he couldn't very well prance up to "the real Hogwarts champion" as some were calling Cedric, surrounded as he was with giggling girls, and announce that they were going to be facing dragons. It would be seen and gossiped that Harry was trying to play mind games with his opponents, stirring up more trouble Harry didn't need. It was only when they walked in to History of Magic, which they shared with Hufflepuff, that the solution to Harry's dilemma landed right in his lap. He paid attention through Professor Binns' lecture and kept one eye on the door as the bell rang.

"Hey Susan," Harry called out as she made to leave the classroom. She stopped and turned. "Do you have a minute?"

"I suppose," she replied, sounding as though she could handily name a dozen things she'd rather do. She glanced at Hannah, who had also stopped. "I won't be long."

"I know you think I cheated to get in to the tournament," he said plainly when they were alone. "I don't know what evidence I can show you to change your mind, but all I can do is tell you I'm not that kind of person. I believe in honest advantage, not an unfair edge."

"So you say."

"I need you to give Diggory a message for me, okay? It's very important and has to do with the first Task. He needs to know how to get past a dragon. Don't ask me how I found out, but the other champions know too. I don't want Diggory to get killed because he wasn't ready."

Susan's eyes, which held cold scepticism, narrowed in suspicion. "You're trying to trick him."

"No!" Harry felt frustrated beyond belief. "Susan, I swear, it's the truth. You've got to tell Diggory. Please!"

"Oh, I'll tell him, all right," Susan promised. "I'll tell him exactly what you tried to do. In fact, I'm going to go right now!"

With a flash of her long braid, she was gone.

Harry sighed. Well, even if Diggory didn't believe him, at least he'd tried. If he didn't listen, Harry had done the right thing. He could take satisfaction in that after the first Task was over.

Assuming he lived.

He would. Harry wasn't about to go down without a fight.

In the greenhouses, most of the Ravenclaws continued to give him the cold shoulder. Only Padma Patil gave him so much as a smile, but she did not approach him, and Terry Boot studied Harry through narrowed eyes. Harry worked with his back to them all.

After their double Herbology lesson, the Slytherins hurried back to the dormitories to have quick showers before dinner. They still arrived halfway through the meal, and Harry didn't get to speak to Draco alone until they were back in the common room.

"Get your broom and come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"Second floor girls' bathroom."

Draco sobered. "You're going to open the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Yes. I need a place to practice without the whole world watching. I want you to come with me."

"I would be honoured." Draco's face was solemn as he took his broom, the Nimbus 2000 that Harry had given him for Christmas, out of his trunk.

Harry grabbed his Firebolt, and the pair headed out, also carrying a Quaffle to put off any questioners. On the second floor, they made their way to the haunted bathroom that contained the entrance to Hogwarts' most legendary secret.

Harry ran a finger over the tiny engraved snake on the copper tap. He stared very hard at it, willing himself to believe it was real. "_Open_," he hissed in the dusty language of snakes.

The grime of the tunnel was still thick. It wasn't as though the house elves cleaned this part of the castle. Harry snapped off a dozen Scouring Charms and hopped on to his broom. He floated down the pipe, scrubbing away a thousand years worth of muck and mildew as he went.

Draco mounted his Nimbus 2000 and created two floating balls of flame to light their way as they cleaned the whole length of the pipe.

At the bottom, Harry cast a Sweeping Charm with a vast wave of his wand. All of the assorted bones and skulls went skittering along the floor to collect in a pile. He would figure out what to do with them later.

More Scouring Charms cleaned up the pools of stagnant water, and the vast skin that had so frightened them on their first trip in to the bowels of the school was shoved off to the side.

At last they came to the double doors that marked the Chamber proper. Harry spoke the command, and the snake locks disengaged. The door creaked open.

Dust and dirt filled the many cracks in the stonework here, but once they'd been cleaned up a bit, the place didn't seem nearly so gloomy. A few globes of light really helped.

As Harry had hoped, the great vaulted ceiling here was more than sufficient to allow him to fly freely. He took a pass up and down the length of the chamber. It was perfect! The chamber was even suitable for Quidditch. He and Draco tossed the Quaffle back and forth a few times, but Harry didn't waste much time playing around.

He threw himself in to a torturous looping pattern designed to help Seekers evade Bludgers. Parts of it could definitely be adapted for dragon fire. Draco helped by shooting minor hexes and jinxes at Harry. They stayed until nearly curfew, and they secretively emerged from the large pipe in the bathroom much cleaner than a year and a half ago when Harry had saved the school.

Back in the common room, Draco and Harry sat and spent at least ten minutes staring in to the dancing flames of the fireplace as they discussed strategy.

"Your idea is brilliant," Draco said cheerfully. "Nobody's going to expect you to pull a broom out of your arse. You'll fly circles around that big, dumb lizard, and Slytherin will get all the glory. But Krum and Diggory are both Seekers too. They might have the same idea, so in that case speed will matter. Don't waste a lot of time showing off; just lure the thing away from the egg and zoom."

"Thanks for the help. I couldn't prepare nearly so well without you."

"It's tally, Harry. My pleasure."

Before Professor Vector arrived at class on Tuesday morning after breakfast, Susan Bones strode over to Harry's desk and folded her arms across her chest.

"Well, I told him," she said. "He's not convinced you're not lying, so he thanks you for the warning."

"You'll see. Maybe then you'll be sorry you were so judgemental." Harry hoped she'd be decent enough to apologize once she saw the truth with her own eyes.

Susan didn't reply, but she didn't seem angry as she walked back to her seat like she had when talking to him before.

Any further thoughts were superseded as Professor Vector walked in and began the lecture. Harry was glad to see that the lesson was on fractions, something Harry had done well with in Muggle school. Without that prior experience, he would have been utterly lost as Professor Vector laboured to explain the mysteries of numerators and denominators.

In Astronomy, Professor Sinistra talked about how the alignment of the planets would lend power to those competing in the first Task of the Triwizard tournament. Harry took feverish notes. Any advantage he could gain, he would take, particularly if the heavens wanted to offer their help.

Everybody hardly dared to breathe whenever Professor Moody spoke for fear of missing a word. For every nasty Dark curse they learned about, there was always a story to go along with it about how some Death Eater (in the last war) or follower of Grindelwald (in the previous war) had used it in combat. Today, he was lecturing them about duelling technique.

"The best way to defend against a hex is to not be there when it lands. A simple side-step can make most curses miss you. Some wizards can control the path of certain spells, but aim is of the utmost importance when dealing with a deadly opponent. If there's more than one? Your aim better be perfect, because otherwise you're dead."

Professor McGonagall's lessons had shockingly gotten a bit easier for Harry. He didn't know what had changed - she certainly hadn't altered her teaching technique - but Harry found himself intuitively understanding her better. Transfiguration ceased to be completely onerous for him, and he was able to help his friends as they tried to change stones to mice.

After the lesson, Harry didn't want to make the trek all the way down to the dungeons to drop off his bag only to trudge back up to the Great Hall for dinner.

"Draco, let's just go eat."

"Yeah, I thought I was going to die of starvation while old McGonagall went on. I hope there's beef tonight."

The other fourth year Slytherins headed for a secret passage, though Pansy and Jenna stuck close by. Laine, Lucas, Ginny, and Arcen met up with them on the stairs, and the octet hurried down to the Great Hall.

With the cluster of people constantly surrounding him, Harry felt much like the other champions. But where Harry's friends were trying to protect him from assault, Diggory and Krum were seen with clusters of admirers. Fleur Delacour also attracted a rather large congregation of young men who had the most amazing things to say to her.

Amongst those so afflicted was Ron Weasley. He and the other two he commonly hung around with, Thomas and Finnigan, were loitering in the entrance hall that evening. They were doubtless waiting to mock Harry by asking for his autograph, but Fleur's appearance, with three other Beauxbatons girls, must have distracted him.

Weasley practically threw himself in front of her. "Hi," he said intelligently.

The French girls giggled.

"Do you want to go for a ride on my broomstick? Er, _vooz voo-lets_-"

"Hah!" Fleur's haughty response contained clear tones of disinterest and disdain.

"I built a better broom, one that will fly to Jupiter."

Fleur swept Weasley aside with a single wave from her wand. The girls strode by his crumpled form without so much as a glance down.

"I think she likes you, Weasley," Draco hooted with laughter.

Weasley got up, his face red and blotchy. He didn't say a word to the Slytherins, just turned and walked away.

Dinner itself contained nothing so amusing, and on the way back to the common room, Harry asked Draco, Pansy, Jenna, Crabbe, Goyle, and Millie to come with him as he ducked away to the Potions classroom.

"Guys, I need your help. Thanks to Sirius and Professor Snape, I know how to beat the dragon and get the egg. But the dragon knows how to beat me too, and that's where you come in. I'm pretty good in the air, but I've never had to do serious dodging like I'll have to do on Thursday. I need you to hex me."

"So why isn't Tim here?" Draco asked. "He'd love to hex you."

Harry ignored Draco's sass. "I want you to use minor hexes, please. Just give me something to fly around."

"Where are we doing this? Quidditch pitch?" Millie asked.

"Better," Draco said with a smirk. "My fellow Slytherins, make obeisance to Lord Potter, the Heir of Slytherin, for he invites us to his domain in the Chamber of Secrets."

The three girls shivered and quivered, while Crabbe and Goyle looked awed. They had all heard the tale of how Harry had defeated the memory of Tom Riddle (the real name of Lord Voldemort), but only Draco and Tim had actually gone down with him, and neither had entered the Chamber proper.

With careless idleness, they discovered themselves on the second floor. They made a turn down one specific corridor and the four boys ducked in to the girls bathroom while the girls kept the watch. The door was locked behind them. Harry spoke the word. The sink fell out of place as the wall opened and the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets appeared.

"_Gravitas penna!_" Harry said, waving his wand over each of his friends in turn. "Hop in."

Harry's Featherfall Charm wasn't quite as good as Sirius', for they shot down the pipe a tad quicker than feathers. It was actually jolly fun. The landing was distinctly soft, so Harry did wonder if the spell hadn't fully activated until they were close to the bottom.

His friends were looking around with amazement writ plain across their faces. Harry had left some orbs filled with magic flame down here to light the way. He wasn't quite as good at conjuring fire as Goyle, but he wasn't half-bad. On past the giant skin and to the ornate serpentine door they went. Harry opened the lock with a word in Parseltongue, and they all filed inside.

More lights adorned every surface. The gloom and doom had been completely chased away from the central hall at least. Harry picked up his Firebolt, which he'd left leaning against a pillar. He kicked off in to the air, looping a few times to work out the tight muscles. He warmed up while the others took a look around.

Their fascination was understandable. They were standing amidst history. Other than Tom Riddle, the last person to set foot here had been Salazar Slytherin himself, the greatest of the Hogwarts Four, their Founder. He had set the high standards the house reached for, standards higher than the towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents that rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness. A statue of Slytherin stood against the back wall. as high as the Chamber itself. The giant face was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard's sweeping stone robes, where two enormous grey feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor. Filtered light lit a circle on the stone floor at the statue's feet.

Ginny Weasley had lain in that circle of light while her soul was devoured by Tom Riddle's diary, which had contained a bit of his own soul. She had poured her life energy in to him, and he had poured his soul back in to her. He had almost returned to life before Harry had destroyed the diary.

Harry shook his head, refusing to let his memories overwhelm him. He had too much work to do. He called his friends back to the task at hand. They shot many a hex in to the air at him, and Harry took quite a few at first. Three hit him all at once and nearly knocked him off his broom. Only the low power of the jinxes saved him. After that, Harry got much nimbler. He missed many bolts of light by the skin of his teeth, but he missed them. Slowly but surely, his twists and turns got neater and sharper. It really moved beyond the realm of mere flight and became a form of dance.

For his own offence, Harry painted a target on the polished stone wall of a dragon's face, and Draco cast a spell to animate it. After he felt reasonably confident in his ability to avoid serious damage, he tried to fly one-handed with a drawn wand. This was also relatively easy, because the Seeker had to use one hand to catch the Snitch. Harry decided to try casting the Conjunctivitis Curse.

The results were disastrous.

He nailed Millie square in the face with one mis-aimed try. Jenna shrieked and ducked out of the way of another. The three that did strike the wall were nowhere near the target, which was now laughing at Harry.

"Somebody please tell me we know the counter for this," Millie said tearfully.

Fortunately, Harry had made sure Draco knew it in case of emergency.

Harry tried harder, throwing himself through the skies, trying to give himself that one extra half-second to aim. The Firebolt's speed and manoeuvrability helped a lot, and Harry did eventually improve.

When he needed a break from flying, he sent Goyle off to the farthest corner of the tunnels and practised Summoning his broom. This spell also took some time, but Harry was diligent. Eventually the Firebolt answered his call consistently. By then Harry was knackered, but he was certain he could call his broom from the shed.

Upon their return to the common room, where they just barely made curfew, they found Blaise sitting at a near table. She looked up as the wall closed, a frown on her face. "Where have you all been?"

"We went for a stroll around the grounds," Draco lied instantly. "A little evening constitutional to settle the digestion."

"For three hours?"

"I had a lot of digestion to settle. I ate rather a lot at dinner, you know. I went back for seconds on pudding, I might add."

"Malfoy, you are so full of it."

"Yes, I just said that. I'm very full of pudding. Crabbe and Goyle, on the other hand, ate far more than I."

"Stop being a prat and answer me," Blaise demanded. "Where did you all go, and why wasn't I invited?"

Draco lost his bantering tone. "I'd rather be full of it than empty inside, Zabini," he sneered. "Which is what seems to be your problem lately. 'Why wasn't I invited?'" he whined. "Get over yourself already, for magic's sake. We're tired of you being such a drag all the time."

Blaise's eyes flicked to Harry almost instinctively. Harry stared back resolutely. This had to end. By Merlin, he wanted his good friend back. He wanted back the girl who could always make him smile. Blaise had given Harry his first hug. She'd been the first of his friends to invite him to talk about anything that was on his mind. She'd been the one to tell him that friends could disagree with each other.

"I'm sorry my feelings aren't reciprocated," she said stiffly. "But I can't just let them go. You may not know it now, Harry, but we're meant to be together. We will be some day."

"But not today," he said quietly. "Nor tomorrow. And Thursday I have an appointment with destiny. Beyond that, I'm not making plans."

She twitched a grin at his weak joke.

"Can't you just wish me well, Blaise? Support me with the others, because I really could use the help."

"I don't know if I can keep my feelings to myself," she confessed, "but never think I'm not supporting you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Draco looked like he was going to say something, so Harry stepped on his foot. "It's late. We've got Herbology first thing, and I hate grubbing in the dirt on low sleep."

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Blaise. Pansy, Jenna, Millie, good night."

Wednesday morning's lesson was just as unpleasant as Monday's. Most of the Ravenclaws once again resolutely ignored Harry, and he was perfectly content to ignore them right back. He focused all his attention on the Flitterbloom Plant. Wishing there was time between classes for a wash, Harry led the way to Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall surprisingly assigned them no homework. Not that they complained, but in response to their astounded faces, she said, "With the first Task tomorrow, I have no illusions anyone will devote time to study for the next few days. You have all been working hard, and perhaps a short respite is called for."

At lunch, Hannah Abbott approached Harry as he and the gang made ready to head to Charms.

"Hey, Potter, do you have a mo'?"

"Sure." He folded his arms across his chest. "What names are you going to call me this time?"

Hannah shook her head, sending her blonde hair flipping around. "It's not like that. I've got a message for you from Diggory. He wants to meet face-to-face."

"What for?"

"He didn't say."

Harry thought. "Trophy room. After dinner."

"Thanks. Bye."

She walked away. Obviously she hadn't changed her attitude towards him at all. She'd just been doing Diggory a favour.

Professor Flitwick's lesson on Relocation Charms was interesting, but Harry was too distracted and couldn't make the spell work at all. It was very frustrating, especially given his recent success with the Summoning Charm.

"Manipulating objects with the power of a single Charm will take us right through the end of term," Professor Flitwick lectured. "In January, we will begin work on the Banishing Charm, which is the opposite of the Summoning Charm, and is also related to the Relocation Charm. If you can perform one of these Charms, you can do all of them. All three will be on the final exam in June."

At least Harry was exempt from that.

Stung by Flitwick's excoriating evaluation of his performance, Harry complained about his failure as they headed down to the dungeons for double Potions. He wasn't alone; nobody else had managed to cast the spell properly either.

As they crossed from the castle proper to the dungeons, Draco nudged him. "Hey, this should cheer you up. Let's ambush Weasley before class. We can decorate him all kinds of colours and let Snape find him."

"Excellent."

They took position to the left side of the classroom door, so that approaching students had to go around them to enter. Tim and Blaise ignored them, while Pansy and Jenna giggled wickedly.

Weasley saw them, and his step faltered for a brief moment, but an eager grin appeared on his face as he strode forward. "Hey! Aren't you Harry Potter the famous Triwizard champion? Wow, can I have your- Hey!"

His mocking words were interrupted as Harry and Draco pointed their wands.

"_Os comme gelée!_"

"_Everte statum!_"

The two bolts of light struck Weasley at exactly the same moment, and he was blasted back against the wall. He sank to the floor, and though he tried to pull himself up, his legs would not sustain his weight. He made for his wand, but Harry deftly deprived him of it with a neat Summoning Charm.

"_Accio_ wand!"

"Damn you, Potter!"

"You had fair warning this time, Weasel," Draco sneered.

"If you say so, ferret," Weasley replied fiercely.

"I do. You would do well to listen to your betters. It's because you don't learn these lessons, _Ronald_, that we continue to have these unpleasant meetings."

"Get stuffed, Malfoy!"

Draco tsk-tsked Weasley. Then with a wave of his wand and a single word, Weasley's black uniform robes became blue and grey striped!

"Get these off of me!"

Harry waved his wand as well, and with a Painting Charm wrote, "I Wanna Be French", on the back of the robes in bright white letters.

"What are you writing? Potter, I'm going to break your arm!"

"Shut up, Weasley," Draco ordered tersely. "Now, should we shave his head or not?"

"Not. But we should help him comb it."

"Excellent. Allow me."

"You are the comb expert."

Draco stuck out his tongue and cast a spell they'd learned from Pansy. Weasley's scalp flared pink for a moment, and then his hair was tightly French-braided in a dozen rows. Even though his hair wasn't long enough for a Muggle to have done it, with magic, much more was possible. Weasley yelped in pain as his scalp was suddenly tugged in all-new directions. "What the bloody _smeg_?"

"Just trying to help, Weasley. You've got to look your best for the French tart."

Harry grinned. "Hagrid's dog Fang doesn't drool as much as you do when you see her, Weasley. Do you have to be so crass? We are trying to put our best foot forward in front of the foreigners."

"Nice one, Harry," Draco said as an aside.

"Thanks."

"I guess the whole point here, Weasley, is that we don't think you're paying enough attention in class. You should listen to Professor Moody. Constant vigilance!"

Harry couldn't hold it any longer and started laughing until his sides ached. "Constant vigilance!" he wheezed.

Weasley wasn't laughing, but he never did seem to have much of a sense of humour. Draco applied a Sticking Charm to glue the boy's feet to the floor while Harry left Weasley's wand just out of reach. Still chuckling, the two Slytherins ducked in to the classroom.

Professor Snape came along presently, and he noted Weasley's absent seat with a twinkle in his eye. "Thomas, inform Weasley he has a detention with me tonight after dinner."

"Yes, sir."

After a double dose of brewing, which was always enjoyable, they hurried to the common room to drop off their bags and headed immediately up to dinner. They laughed past Thomas and Finnigan, who were trying to reverse the spells Weasley was under.

Harry hurried through dinner. He wanted to get to the trophy room before Diggory did and be waiting for him. Not that he really thought Diggory would resort to foul play, but it was what Professor Moody would have done. When Harry had finished his last glass of pumpkin juice, he immediately rose and made to leave.

"Where are you off to?" Jenna inquired, putting her fork down.

"Clandestine meeting," Harry quipped truthfully.

"A secret meeting? Alone?"

"No, someone else will be there too. Otherwise it's not quite a meeting, is it?"

It wasn't often Harry got one up on Jenna, and he enjoyed it while he could. She usually fired back with some zinger that had them all in stitches, but not this time. She frowned slightly.

"You do know it's absolutely stupid to go off for a secret meeting and not tell anyone you're going, right? I mean, honestly. There's a Death Eater at large. What if you were to get ambushed? We'd never know what happened to you. Do you want us to linger on in a neverending, sad wondering?"

"Draco knows."

"Oh," Jenna said, completely dropping her hurt face. "In that case, do you know how stupid it is to go off by yourself when there's a Death Eater at large? What if you were to get ambushed? We'd never know what happened to you, and-"

"Okay, okay!" Harry said, giving up. "Constant vigilance. Jenna, will you come watch my back for me while I have a secret meeting?"

"Why yes!" She wiped her mouth on her napkin and stood up. "How nice of you to ask."

Harry rolled his eyes. Girls sure were persistent.

They walked side by side out of the Great Hall and up the stairs to the fourth floor where the trophy room held all sorts of mementos of triumphs long ago.

"Sorry for being a little pushy back at the table," Jenna said as they went. "But I don't like the idea of you going off by yourself. I would have suggested Crabbe or Goyle, but I did want to have a private moment with you."

"What's on your mind?"

"I'm really worried about you. I know we've done our best to prepare you, but I just hope it's enough. I fear it isn't. And I'm not looking forward to feeling guilty if you get hurt."

"Hey," Harry said. "If I get hurt, it's because I wasn't quick enough or smart enough. You can't blame yourself. You're especially not allowed to do it before the sodding Task."

Jenna was quiet for a few moments. "My parents send their best wishes. They wanted me to save it for right before, but now's a good time."

"I appreciate it."

They waited in silence for Diggory to arrive. When he did, he was alone. His eyes flicked to Jenna for a moment, but quickly returned to Harry. Diggory wore his wand openly at his belt, and his hands hovered near it.

"Thanks for coming," Diggory said.

"Sure."

"I got your message about the dragons," Diggory continued. "It seemed a little far-fetched at first, and I was certain you were just trying to rattle me. The more I thought about it, though, the more it didn't seem so outlandish. I'd been imagining the Tasks as things I could accomplish with my current skills. I didn't even think they'd throw us in to a situation where we would have to make it up as we went. Dragons! Who prepares for _that_?"

Diggory had started emphasizing his words with his hands, but now he calmed down and looked at Harry square. "I just need to hear it from you. I want to look in to your eyes when you say it."

"It's dragons, Cedric."

Diggory inhaled sharply and let out a shuddering breath. "Yeah, I thought so. I just needed to be sure. Moody's on us about constant vigilance so much, I'm questioning everything now. That pretty Beauxbatons girl who was flirting with me the other day, for example. Did she fancy me, or was she fishing for Fleur? Before this year, I would have said the first. Now? Definitely the latter."

Harry really had better things to do than listen to Diggory talk about his dating life. "Good luck tomorrow, yeah?"

"You too."

Diggory left with a troubled expression on his face. He was no doubt sifting through everything he knew about dragons.

"Now that was something I didn't expect," Jenna observed.

"I'm full of surprises. I just don't think it was fair that nobody deigned to share that trivial fact with him. Krum and Fleur have their teachers helping; I've got Snape. Who does Diggory have?"

"He's got the noble Harry Potter, of course," Jenna replied with a giggle.

In a lower corridor on the way to a secret passage down to the ground floor, Neville Longbottom crossed their paths. He had gotten a fair bit taller since first year, not quite so chubby-seeming. He was still horrible at Potions, but he had disassociated himself from Weasley in all ways. He worked alone now, and he hadn't managed to melt a cauldron yet this year. He carried his head a bit higher around the castle. He didn't even look away when he first met Harry's eyes.

"Hello, Potter."

"Hello, Longbottom."

"All set for tomorrow then?"

"As much as I can be."

"Good."

There was an awkward silence.

"Listen, I know Ron's been acting like a prat lately-"

"Lately?" Jenna interjected.

"-but you've always been pretty square with me. I remember when you reversed Malfoy's Leg-Locker back in first year. I remember how you didn't want to fight on the train last year. Don't think I haven't noticed that your little gang doesn't bother me any. The person I see doesn't match with what you'd have to do to get yourself in, and I really don't think you did it. My gran's told me a lot of the history of the tournament, and I know it's no game. I just wanted to say good luck."

Harry's jaw dropped in amazement. Good wishes from a _Gryffindor_? He stifled an urge to glance up and see if there were cracks forming in the ceiling. Out of the corner of his eye, Jenna was similarly incredulous.

"Thanks, Longbottom. I mean that."

"I'll be cheering for Cedric tomorrow. Ron would have apoplexy if I didn't, but even he would rather see you win instead of Krum or Fleur, I think."

"Now that's just not true, Longbottom," Harry said. "Weasley hates me outright, and while we all saw him drooling over Fleur last night, I hear he's got quite the crush on Krum."

"Really?" Longbottom blinked in surprise. "Where'd you get that from?"

"His sister."

"Ah. Right. Well."

Longbottom looked very uncomfortable with the subject, so Harry let it drop. "Well, I've got to go prepare some more. Cheers, Longbottom."

"Cheers, Potter. Cheers, Moon."

"Ciao!"

to be continued...


	14. The First Task

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Fourteen - The First Task**

When Harry opened his eyes, his first thought was that he had only hours left to live. His skills and practice would all be for naught, and the dragon would pick him out of her teeth with one claw.

No, he thought back defiantly. I'm going to get past that dragon because I've got a plan. I've got a good plan, a great plan. It's a Slytherin plan with some Gryffindor elements in it.

Harry wasted no time in rising. He didn't want to just lay around and worry, so he grabbed his bath things and headed to the bathroom. He could wash and worry at the same time. He most often took showers, but today he activated one of the special features of the Slytherin bathroom. With a touch of his wand and a single word of command, the tiles began rippling and changing. A bathtub rose up from underneath, and steamy water immediately began to pour from the tap. Harry hung his dressing gown up on the hook and stepped in. The water was the perfect temperature, as it always was. Harry thought it would be quite swanky if there were jets like a hottub. That would be really good for after Quidditch matches too.

Eventually other Slytherins began to rise and shine. Draco sauntered in and looked inquisitively at Harry before nodding in sudden comprehension.

"Get loose before the big Task," he said. "Good idea."

"I was actually hoping to practice a bit more. I haven't done any dodging on the ground. If you guys hover above me and shoot down spells, I could try to avoid them."

"That's a good idea. Well, we'd better hurry up to breakfast then, hadn't we?"

"Yeah." Harry didn't really want to leave the comfort of the bath, but his stomach disagreed. He remained as long as he could after washing all his various bits. Draco amazingly took a shower in only ten minutes.

"That's some kind of record, right?" Harry asked cheekily.

"I skipped the conditioner."

"_You_ skipped the conditioner? And you plan to appear in public?"

"I have good hair. It can survive one skipped treatment."

In the dorm, Harry pulled out a plain black school robe and threw it on over a uniform shirt and pants. He didn't bother with a tie, nor a hat. He planned to remove his robe for the Task, but he had no appropriate clothing for strenuous athletic activity. Of course if things went according to plan, there wouldn't be any need for it. If.

Harry, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle hustled up to the Great Hall and found Millie, Pansy, and Jenna already eating. Laine, Ginny, and the other third year girls, Lucas, Arcen, and the other third year boys, were present and accounted for.

"Good morning, Harry," Pansy said, as though it were any other day. "Sleep well?"

"I've done better."

"One way or another, it'll be over soon."

"It's the 'or another' that has me worried."

The girls all giggled at Harry's wit.

"Do you know what you're wearing?" Laine asked. "You don't want anything that's going to possibly bind your arm. I was thinking maybe a dueller's tunic, because those don't have sleeves."

"I don't have a dueller's tunic."

"I think you just might," Millie said. "I got a package from Mum this morning filled with clothes. The note said it was all yours, so long as you wear some of it for the Task. I took a look, and you should definitely consider it."

"Sure," Harry agreed amicably. He didn't have a lot of variety in his clothes. There were his school robes, his everyday robes, Quidditch robes, and some fancy robes for formal occasions. He had a lot of nice shirts and trousers, but it wasn't anything he would go off on an adventure wearing. "Where is all the stuff?"

"I had the owls take the box to our room. We'll get it after breakfast."

An owl arrived at that moment for Harry, bearing a parcel perhaps the size of a loaf of bread. The note attached was from Mr. Malfoy, and read simply that it was always wise to be prepared for any eventuality. Inside the package, Harry found a pair of black trousers with a scaly, smooth surface. It was the same material as his gloves for Herbology.

"Dragonskin!"

"_Gehzunteit_," Jenna said, looking over. "Whoa, trousers? Someone sent you dragonskin trousers?"

"Well, we know how well dragonskin can protect us from stuff in the greenhouses," Millie said. "I imagine the idea is the same. It's good against fire, acid, venom."

"Your dad is amazing," Harry said to Draco. "Where'd he find these?"

"I learned a long time ago to never question my father's skill at business."

In the common room, Millie went to get the box of clothes her mum had sent up. They congregated in the boys' room, sending Tim, who had been having a lay in, storming off to the showers.

The selection of clothing was top notch. There were dueller's tunics without sleeves, with sleeves, short robes that ended at his waist, ones that hit mid-thigh, tight-fitting trousers, and even several varieties of the best Muggle athletic footwear.

Harry grinned upon seeing those. Dislike of Muggles only went so far when one's neck was on the line. As Mr. Malfoy had been known to say, Muggles obviously made better footwear, because they had to walk everywhere. While that wasn't strictly true, Muggles did a lot more walking than wizards.

He ignored the trousers in favour of Mr. Malfoy's present. When he tried them on, it felt like he'd coated his legs in oil. They were perfectly comfortable, if a bit on the conforming side. Harry just hoped the dragon he faced and the one whose skin had become his trousers hadn't been friends.

To Harry's surprise, Pansy and Jenna did not pick out what shirt or robe he was going to wear. Millie picked carefully through the assorted articles, sorting each to a pile. Then she took two piles and began discarding items as she held them up to Harry's chest. The Slytherin-green short robe she eventually decided on nicely covered his now not-so-skinny thighs. The sleeves of the robe were also cut close, and the cuffs at the wrists were tight. Silver trim and embroidery sparkled brilliantly. He looked quite dashing, actually. All he needed was a floppy hat with a ridiculously long feather to look completely Renaissance-era. He was certainly quite the object of discussion when he went up for the noon meal.

Morning lessons had been cancelled, and Harry spent the time down in the Chamber of Secrets preparing. He had the others get above him and shoot hexes down at him while he dodged. He was pretty bad at it, and he really hoped he got a slow dragon that was easily distracted.

The lock on the broom shed had been destroyed with a Blasting Curse. Harry had called Kreacher up and set him as guard over the shed so no one made off with the Firebolt. All of his plans had been laid. He was out of time. Now he had a date with destiny.

Professor Snape escorted him down to the champions' tent after lunch. Snape's piercing eyes studied Harry intently. Harry wondered what he was looking for. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it, because he flicked his wand at the front doors. They swung open on silent hinges, for they had been oiled for the arrival of the foreign guests.

"You go in to this Task as a representative of this school and of our House," Snape said as the walked. His black robes rippled in the stiff breeze. Additionally, he wore a green sash with silver trim over his left shoulder. "Remember that Slytherin valued cunning and ambition. Win by your wits. If it comes to force, mere chance can decide. You are intelligent, Mister Potter, though some of your past actions have been ill-considered. As there is no possible consideration here, I have faith in you to persevere and overcome if you keep your head."

"Sir?" Harry asked cheekily. "Can we not joke about me losing my head?"

Snape twitched a smile. "Stick to the plan, Mister Potter, and we will be celebrating tonight."

They had arrived at the pavilion where the champions were to be secluded until the start of the Task.

"May Slytherin watch over you, Mister Potter," Snape said, tapping Harry on the shoulder with his wand. "May Merlin keep you safe."

"Up Slytherin!"

Harry was the first of the champions to arrive. Krum walked in second, and even his slouching couldn't disguise his nervousness.

"Hey, Krum," Harry said in greeting.

"Potter," Krum replied shortly.

"Nervous?"

"Some. I am vondering if I have prepared enough. You?"

"The same," Harry admitted, figuring if anyone would understand, Krum would. "Facing the unknown always raises that question."

Krum's face darkened. "Da, the unknown."

So Snape had been right. Krum _did_ know about the dragons. Fleur's face when she walked in a few moments later side-by-side with Diggory confirmed her knowledge as well. Harry breathed a sigh of satisfaction. He'd done the right thing to tell Cedric.

The crowd seemed very jovial as they arrived. Harry supposed he would have been too if he hadn't been about to face a dragon.

Mr. Bagman arrived just then and explained that the champions' goal was to retrieve a golden egg. He still refused to even say the word dragon, and it wasn't until they drew miniature models from a pouch to determine the order and also which dragon they would face that they "learned" the truth.

For his own part, Harry drew number two. He would be marching in to the proverbial colosseum after Fleur. He had also drawn the Chinese Fireball. It was the quickest of the four dragons, Harry knew from his reading. That made it the most dangerous. A Fireball's breath would burn you to a crisp in an instant and disintegrate you to ashes the next.

Fleur had been dealt quite a bad hand. Not only did she have to go first, but she'd drawn the nastiest dragon of the lot, the Hungarian Horntail. From the reactions of the crowd, things didn't go particularly well, but she did eventually get around the thing, though Mr. Bagman called for the Healers immediately. A team of dragon handlers came in to remove the angry beast.

Harry turned to the Gates of Hell. He resolutely set his jaw. Now was the time. It was now or never. _Dear Merlin, please just don't let me look too stupid._

"And now, the second champion! Hogwarts' own Harry Potter!"

The colours stabbed vividly in to his brain. The Fireball, a red dragon with smooth scales the colour of blood with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air. The snout was stubby, and the protruding eyes made a tempting target. Its body was more serpentine than he'd expected, and the stubby wings didn't look as if they would carry it very far.

The plan. Stick to the plan. Harry raised his wand.

"_Accio_ Firebolt!"

He didn't waste time waiting for the broom to come. He pointed his wand at a fair-sized rock and attempted a Transfiguration far beyond stone to mouse. The resultant pig didn't look very porcine, but it had four legs, a curly tail, and it squealed plenty loud.

The crowd applauded his Transfiguration, but Harry wasn't done. In a fit of inspiration, he added wings, but there was still too much stone in the pig for it to fly. Harry sent it levitating up around the dragon in hopes of luring it away.

There was his broom! In relief, Harry hopped on and took to the skies. Now he was much more mobile and evasive. Hopefully there wouldn't be any need for his special trousers to ward off dragonflame.

The dragon seemed to be interested in the pig. It was sniffing the air now, but still not budging from its place over the nest of eggs. The golden egg was easy to spot. Harry just had to get in there. He sent the pig in closer.

With frightening speed, the Fireball's head snapped out and crunched on the pig's body. With a horrid gnashing, crushed stone began falling out of the dragon's mouth. Harry's Transfiguration hadn't been all that good. Deprived of food, the red beast roared in anger and spat out a broken tooth.

"Mister Potter's pig falls to pieces, and now the dragon looks upset!" Bagman announced.

Great, he'd made it mad. Well, so much for that plan. Snape had been right. Don't depend on uncertain skills. Harry nodded. Time to go for his certain skills.

Harry charged directly at it. When the dragon saw his approach, it blew a jet of flame at him. He dodged neatly, ignoring the heat. He flew in close and pointed his wand. The red flash of the Conjunctivitis Curse bounced off the scales around the dragon's eyes, and Harry was forced to dodge again as another flame headed his way.

"Great Scot, Potter knows how to _fly_!" Bagman needlessly told the crowd. "But his spells are proving ineffective against the Fireball."

Nasty big pointy teeth clacked on empty air as Harry dodged nimbly. He fired the spell again as he zoomed around the dragon's head. The bolt of light deflected in to the ground. Moody hadn't been kidding about aim. Harry's still wasn't good enough. Time and again, his spell was deflected by the natural armour. He had more time to aim than he'd had with his friends down in the Chamber of Secrets, but bulging eyes or not, the target was so _small_.

His other uncertain skill had failed him. He would have to get in closer.

Harry's flying grew more frenzied, and the crowd was fully emotionally engaged with him. Bagman had ceased to commentate, watching awestruck with the rest of them as Harry made the dragon dizzy.

When he saw his chance, Harry looped down and snatched the golden egg right out of the nest. He whipped around the dazzled dragon several more times before zooming away with the egg raised high.

The crowd went berserk.

Harry could barely believe it. He'd made it through unscathed! He threw back his head and howled his delight. His cry was matched by the dragon, as the team of dragon handlers took it away.

He landed, and Sirius was there waiting. His godfather grinned hugely at him and wrapped him in a fierce hug. Harry was laughing, from exhilaration or the relief of stress he wasn't sure.

"Well done, Harry. Well done. I'm so proud of you."

Harry had quite impressed the judges as well, for he earned perfect marks from Bagman and Percy. Dumbledore gave him a nine, while Madame Maxime delivered a seven. Karkaroff insultingly gave Harry only five, spawning boos from the Hogwarts crowd. Even those who were against Harry personally thought he'd done extremely well.

"Shall we sit?" Sirius inquired. "Care to see the rest?"

"Yeah." Harry needed to gauge how good his tactics had been compared to what the other champions came up with.

He looked up and saw Draco waving at him. He turned to Sirius and gestured with his head. Sirius nodded, and the pair made their way up the stairs and in to the stands.

"Jolly good show, mate," Draco congratulated him.

Pansy looked like she'd been biting her nails. She drew her wand. "Thank Merlin you're safe!" With a wave, her nails returned to an unblemished condition.

"Yes, Merlin," Harry said with a grin. Thank Professor Snape, more like. "Well, I did pretty good. How'd Fleur do?"

"She tried to put her dragon into a trance," Jenna replied. "The Horntail went all sleepy, and she tried to sneak by it, but then it snored, and this great jet of flame shot out, and her skirt caught fire. She put it out with a bit of water out of her wand, and while she was doing that, the dragon woke up. She made a run for it. It mauled her pretty good, but she'd already gotten the egg. They needed to call in the dragon handlers to get it off her, and the Healers took her away immediately."

"She got thirty-four points. You're in first with forty-one. Up Slytherin!" Draco said.

"Please show some love for the Durmstrang champion, Viktor Krum!" Ludo Bagman announced.

Krum had drawn the Swedish Short-Snout. It was almost beautiful. Lithe, with silvery-blue scales, its flame was a brilliant blue. The crowd ooh'd and aah'd in appropriate awe.

It seemed that Krum wasn't quite a slouch on the ground after all, because he scampered quite nimbly up on a rock to give himself a clear shot. He wasted no time in any sort of diversionary tactics at all but fired a Conjunctivitis Curse!

Red light flashed out of the end of Krum's unusually thick wand. His aim was remarkable at that distance, and the curse caught the dragon right in the eye. The Short-Snout screamed in pain and thrashed around. The nest it was supposed to be guarding was forgotten as it stomped away. When the dust settled, Harry saw Krum picking up the golden egg from the half-pulverized imitations.

"And Mister Krum's done it!" Mr. Bagman announced to the roaring crowd. "He captures the golden egg!"

"Wow, an excellent time," Draco said worriedly. "But the dragon mashed the eggs. They'll have to take points off for that, right?"

"They should. But who knows what to expect? I would have thought Karkaroff would give Harry more than five," Jenna replied. "I mean, he gave Fleur four, and she barely did it at all. The dragon never got anywhere near Harry."

"Ten?" screamed Sirius when he saw Karkaroff's mark. "You mangy, clay-brained scut! Ten? Get your eyes and wits checked!"

Krum got a combined score of thirty-seven, putting him in second place behind Harry. Jenna squealed and gave Harry a big hug. "Up Slytherin!"

"Diggory's still got to go."

Diggory had lucked out. He'd drawn last position and also the Welsh Green. If one could claim any part of this tournament was easy, this would be it. The smallest of the four, Harry was struck by how pretty its green scales were. They were the exact colour of wild grass. The Green opened its maw and roared a surprisingly melodious challenge.

"The other Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory!"

Diggory looked confident as he stepped in to the arena, but upon seeing the crowd of people, he gulped visibly. He pointed his wand at one of the medium-sized rocks littering the place and employed some Transfiguration. His dog was better than Harry's pig. It actually looked like a dog, and Diggory sent it off to distract the dragon. The dragon was definitely interested in the Labrador, and it moved away from the nest. Diggory made his move.

The cheering of the crowd must have alerted the dragon, because it turned sharply and lunged back to the nest, breathing fire. Diggory dodged out of the way and tried to grab for the egg, but couldn't get it. He was forced to retreat.

Perhaps inspired by overhearing Harry's performance, Diggory performed his own Summoning Charm. Harry knew the Hufflepuff Seeker kept his broom in the broom shed between matches and practices, so only a few moments later, Diggory was in the air. He went back to the beginning and Transfigured another stone to distract the dragon. The Green was either dumb or hungry or both because it went right for the dog again. As it was snacking and slurping down a tasty treat, Cedric flew in and snatched the egg out of the nest.

"What a copycat," Pansy scoffed. "It's almost cheating."

"Cheating is a grand old tradition of the tournament," Sirius said wisely. "Look, the judges aren't giving him a very good score."

Diggory scored thirty-four, tying with Fleur for third place.

"Congratulations, Harry! You're in the lead! And the Weasley twins were taking bets on how long you'd last," Jenna said derisively.

"I hope they lost all their money."

"They're Weasleys, Harry," Draco laughed. "You know they don't have any money."

"That's some egg," Sirius said, changing the subject and giving Draco a stern look. They had been too busy watching the other champions to examine it yet.

It was about the size of a small grapefruit, barely gripable in one hand, and ovoid. There was a knob sort of thing on the top, and Harry wondered would happen if he turned it.

"Harry Potter! Mister Bagman wants all the champions back at the pavilion."

"I'll be waiting right here," Sirius promised.

"I won't be long, I hope."

Harry pushed his way through the departing crowd. He nodded to Diggory as they went through the tent flap.

"Well done, all of you!" said Ludo Bagman, bouncing into the tent and looking as pleased as though he had just got past a dragon himself. "Now, just a quick few words. You've got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth, but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you're all holding, you will see that they open. See the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg, because it will tell you what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then!"

Only Sirius had stayed behind to wait for him. His friends had gone back to the castle. That was unusual for them, and he wondered if Sirius had sent them on their way. Side by side, the two men ambled up the path to the castle.

"I'm very proud of you," Sirius said, breaking the silence. "I know I already said that, but I wanted to say it again. To not only get past a dragon, but to be in first place! James and Lily would be proud of you too. You did very, very well out there today."

"Thanks." Harry still felt like everything was a bit surreal. "I feel disconnected. I was so focused on the dragon that I didn't think about anything beyond it."

"How long before the next Task?"

"Not until next term. End of February."

"Good. Plenty of time to recover from this. We'll have to get cracking on that egg after the new year. In the meantime, relax a little."

"Sounds great."

Sirius and Harry walked in casual silence back up to the castle doors. Harry turned to his godfather to say farewell, because Sirius could go no further.

"I'll see you in a little less than a month. Once term ends, you can come down to the village any time. We'll work on your lessons and get you up to the next level if we can."

"I can't wait."

They embraced fiercely. Harry found the crushing strength of Sirius' arms very comforting.

His friends were waiting for him in the entrance hall. They spent hours reliving every single moment of action during the first Task, and Harry did his best to remember. It was all a blur for him. His last coherent thought was his wish to not look dumb in front of the whole school.

After dinner but before dessert, Professor Dumbledore stood up to address the student body.

"Attention! Before we all enjoy the fine sweets, I should like to inform you all of a new development in the Triwizard Tournament."

Harry perked up warily. What now?

"Today's fine spectacle was some splendid sport, was it not?" There was a rumble of assent. "It was quite exciting to see two of Hogwarts' finest Seekers take to the air again. With a mind to the lack of Quidditch this year, the school governors, in conjunction with Headmaster Karkaroff, Madam Maxime, and myself, have arranged a friendly broom race to be held next term."

The student body exploded in to a flurry of excited discussion. The potential for glory for students other than the Champions was naturally well-received. Harry hoped it would serve to mollify some of the outrage that had developed over his inclusion as a fourth Champion.

"Entry is open to any student fourth year and above, and of course to all of our guests. Madam Hooch will be coordinating the Hogwarts entrants. The prize will be a pre-production model of the new Cleansweep Eleven."

The prize was equally tantalizing. The Cleansweep 10 had just come out and was rivalling the Nimbus 2001 in popularity. It was nothing on Harry's Firebolt, but not everybody could afford to spend that kind of money.

"Further details will be made available at the start of next term. Until then, practice hard. Now, enjoy your pudding."

"A broom race!" Draco looked ready to dance. "Tally!"

"Father takes us to the Swedish Annual every year," Millie volunteered. "We Floo to Kopparberg for the start, but we've never gotten to see the end because you have to Apparate to Arjeplog."

"It runs for seven hundred kilometres through a dragon preserve," Laine added. "It started up several years after the Tournament With No Winner on the same land."

"That's ghastly," Jenna commented with an exaggerated shiver.

"I wonder what the course is going to be. Think it'll go through the Forbidden Forest?" Draco asked.

"Maybe around the lake?"

After dinner, Harry was accosted by Susan and Hannah before he went down the stone steps in to the dungeons.

"Hey, Potter. Harry," she corrected herself. "I owe you an apology. I'm sorry I doubted you about the dragons." Susan sounded very sincere.

"Me too."

"You really played fair, even though you didn't have to. I respect that."

"Thank you."

"Congratulations on first place," Hannah said.

"Thanks. Diggory deserved better than tied for last." Though he hadn't done better than Krum, he _had_ done better than Fleur. Third place in his own right was just about correct.

"There's two more Tasks to go. We've got to go. There's celebrating to do."

"Same here."

Susan and Hannah's apology made Harry feel loads better. Now that the true nature of the Tasks was known, surely others would realize that Harry would have been completely crackers to submit himself. Any rational person would have to admit the truth now.

But as Harry discovered in the dorm that night, he was not totally surrounded by rational people.

The party in the Slytherin common room that night was one to tell stories about. Professor Snape was on-hand to make sure things didn't get entirely out of hand, but he left after only an hour - after which point, things naturally got out of hand. Several of the tables had been enlarged and were now groaning under the sheer weight of food that the house elves had sent up. The wizard's wireless filled the common room with music, and there was a great deal of talking, shouting, toasting, and boasting.

Harry was escorted to a comfortable chair where trays of sweets and treats were placed in front of him. Anything he asked for was made available, by order of Bole and Derrick. They, along with Higgs, Rosier, and the rest of prefects, had decided to resurrect an old tradition of Slytherin House. While the uppers could and did order the firsties around with impudence, they wanted to bring back the caps. All of the first years were now made to wear little pointed caps in green and silver whenever in the common room. The "elfs" had to wait on any upper year student who wanted anything. They had debuted the idea for the party, and Harry was quite glad he hadn't had to go through such a hazing. Of course, he reflected, in first year, he'd been team Seeker, so he would have been able to give the orders anyway.

Jenna ordered her poor cousin Rachel around mercilessly. In addition to fetching her food and beverage, Jenna also made her cousin lavish attention on Tim and Blaise, who were unable to study in the quiet of the dorms, because there was none. They sat together in an oversized chair at the edge of the room, and every time Rachel brought over a glass or plate, Tim would get irritated and send her off.

Many older students were dancing where the tables and chairs had been pushed aside to make space. The fast songs were popular with most everyone, but only couples stayed out for the slow ballads. After they'd let their stomachs settle for a bit, Pansy stood up as a slow song came on the wireless. "Draco, I want to dance."

"So dance."

"I want you to dance with me, you prat."

"I don't dance."

"What do you mean you don't know how to dance? You most certainly do, you bally liar!"

"Oh, I know _how_ to dance. I just don't."

"Malfoys are excellent dancers!"

"Yes, we are."

"So let's dance!"

"I don't dance."

"Argh!" she shouted in frustration. "You obstinate, pig-headed Muggle-licker!"

"I am none of those things!" Draco shot back. "And if I do lick Muggles, should you be snogging me on a regular basis?"

"Why don't you want to dance?"

"I just don't."

"That's not good enough," Pansy declared. "_I_ want to, and you are my boyfriend, so come dance with me."

Draco stood up, his face unreadable. "Pansy, do you want to dance?" he asked meticulously.

"Yes, thank you."

He led her to the dance floor. They twirled around, but they were also having a very heated conversation.

The ballad ended shortly, and a featurette of the Weird Sisters began to play. Harry and Jenna danced to a number of songs, and once they took a break to get some butterbeers, Harry quickly found his dance card filling up. Laine wanted to talk about what he thought tomorrow would bring. Harry had no good answer, so he sent her twirling. She spun around and planted her feet, striking a pose with her arms outstretched. She took small steps towards him, and Harry gathered her in to his arms again.

Harry danced many dances, but only the fast songs. He remained firmly on the sidelines for anything slow. He drank butterbeer by the case. After the raucous celebration, Harry and the lads retired to the dorm.

"I'm glad the music's finally off so I can think clearly," Tim said as soon as they walked through the door.

"Tim?" Draco drawled. "Why are you being such a wet blanket? Are you sore about being wrong? Wouldn't you say that the deadly nature of today's Task proves that Harry didn't put himself in to this?"

"The Task wasn't as bad as all that. Not a scratch on you, is there, Harry?"

"No."

"Of course not. Once upon a time, the tasks were deadly. A fourth year student with a fourth year Charm got first place. Pathetic." Tim sounded absolutely disgusted. "They're all celebrating as though you actually did something phenomenal. I mean, of course you were going to win. It's simple mathematics. All the headmasters will vote for their own schools. And Bagman will never vote against the famous Harry Potter. And Percy Weasley won't do anything to risk his ickle sister. So let's just say you could win even if you fell on your face. Which I'm not discounting yet. There's still two Tasks to go."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. "You really are delusional, aren't you? I could have _died_ out there today."

"But you didn't, thanks to your cheating. Did Weasley tell you about the dragons? Is that how you knew exactly what to do? It's revolting," Tim sneered. "Must be the Muggle in you."

"Stuff yourself, Nott!" Harry snarled, taking a step forward. Tim had hit it exactly right how he'd found out about the dragons, and the accusation of cheating rankled. He was calling Professor Snape a cheater too. "All the other champions knew!"

"The French bitch is a half-breed to begin with, and who knows her lineage? It's not like I can go look it up in the library." Tim wasn't letting up an inch. "Krum's only claim to fame is Quidditch. Diggory's the only pureblood in the competition, and the only reason he knew was because-" Tim broke off with a puzzled expression. "How _did_ Diggory know about them? Because he knew what to do."

"I told him." Harry was giving Tim the sternest glare he could summon. "Because I knew the others knew too, and that wasn't very fair."

"You knew it didn't matter because you had two of the judges already in the bag."

Harry wanted to hex Tim. Nothing else would convince him.

"I don't know what it's going to take for you to realize I'm not lying," he said. "But until you get your head out of your arse and apologize, I don't want to hear a single word out of your mouth."

"And if you do?" Tim looked belligerent. Harry wondered if he'd have to draw his wand and do it faster than Tim.

"Then I'll turn Pansy loose on you."

Tim glared. He and Pansy were fairly evenly matched when it came to verbal sparring, and Tim had been raised to respect women. So long as Pansy did not escalate their conflict to the point of duelling, he could match her only with words, and her tongue was quicker than her wand.

"I'd wish you luck figuring out that egg," Tim said scathingly, "but you don't need luck."

With that taunt, he threw himself in to bed and drew the curtains.

to be continued...


	15. On Romance and Such Things

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Fifteen - On Romance and Such Things**

They got little sleep that night, and Harry was glad for his lay-in in the morning. Tim's alarm woke them, as it always did. He took great pleasure in taunting Tim, who had to get up for Care of Magical Creatures, before rolling over and catching another forty winks.

Friday passed only with a great deal of fuss. The school was abuzz with the excitement of the first Task and the announcement of the broom race. What's more, the first snow had fallen during the night, putting everyone in the holiday cheer.

Harry's stunning victory over the dragon seemed to have silenced his most vocal critics. Professor McGonagall offered rare praise on his botched attempt at Transfiguration - apparently even the little bit he'd managed had surprised her - and she instructed him to apply himself more. Professor Flitwick complimented Harry on the quality of his Summoning Charm and tried to recruit him for the Charms Club. Bletchley, team captain, knew what Harry could do on a broom (having played with him for three years) and still made sure to say good things about his flying.

The only one who really kept on Harry's case was Ron Weasley. His mocking admiration was totally insincere. He kept asking for autographs and how he could join Harry's fan club, despite the humiliations galore that they'd given him so far this year. The best way to shut Weasley up was to start talking about his sister. Harry talked to Ginny multiple times a day, so it was easy to insert her in to the conversation. It worked brilliantly every time. Harry could do as little as mention that he was helping Ginny with her Transfiguration homework, and Ron's head exploded.

Viktor Krum and his fellows from Durmstrang sat at the Slytherin table for meals, but they usually kept to themselves. So it was a great shock to Harry when Krum sat down across from him at dinner on Friday evening.

"You fly very veil."

"Were you watching?"

"I saw vith Omnioculars. Vill you play for England?"

Harry had no idea if he wanted to play Quidditch for a living. It was fun - okay, loads and loads of fun - but did he want to play every day? Rise at half four and trudge to the field to practice in the drizzling rain? Or any of the other wonderful training ideas Flint had used?

"I wouldn't mind. I think I'm a bit young yet."

"In two years, they vill be talking to you. The minimum age is sixteen. I first played for Bulgaria at that age."

Harry considered that. "Well, I guess I've got time to think about it."

Krum laughed sharply. "You do."

"Any luck on the egg?"

"No. You?"

"Not even worried about it," Harry said casually. "Plenty of time."

**MINISTRY'S RISING STAR!**

Former Hogwarts Head Boy Percy Weasley has become the youngest ever department head in history, reports _ Ministry Insider_. Although not yet eighteen years old, young Mr. Weasley has been chosen for his incredible talents to replace Bartemius Crouch of International Magical Cooperation, who has retired due to illness. When asked about his meteoric rise, Mr. Weasley responded that he merely seeks to serve the public and strives to be a pillar of the community.

Of course, he still is only seventeen, and he does deserve a good time. Witch Weekly teamed up with one of Britain's most prominent heirs, Elan Malfoy, to throw this young political prodigy a surprise party. We were on the scene at the exclusive party which had scions of the finest families of the wizarding world dancing and celebrating the night away. Sadly for our younger readers, Elan confirms that Percy is off the market. "He's deliriously happy with Miss Lynn Fawcett," daughter of Head of Magical Catastrophes Jasper Fawcett. "The two are inseparable."

Other notable company - for those keeping score - include Heather Duke, heir to the Honeydukes fortune, seen here with Lawrence Derrick of Snowdon, scion of Wales' finest dragon breeding family.

On Saturday, they were lounging around the common room relaxing. Harry and Draco started up a game of Exploding Rummy, and Crabbe, Goyle, and Millie joined them. Jenna and Pansy opted out. Blaise and Tim were not to be found, and the third years were holed up in the library.

"Oi, Jenna," Pansy whispered suddenly. "Look at this!"

Jenna leaned her head in to look at the magazine Pansy had been idling flipping through.

"Would you look at that?" Pansy pointed to the picture. It showed Elan and Percy out at some swanky club surrounded by all the other lads from their form. Every single one of them was escorting a beautiful woman.

"Hey, it's old Palce. Wow, who's he with?" The quieter lad chosen to replace Elan as prefect two years ago had been a decent fellow. Raucous parties didn't seem his thing. Maybe he'd loosened up since finishing school.

"Eleanor Weiss," Pansy replied. "She was a seventh year in our second year. I hear she's become a Healer now. But never mind that. Look who Elan's with!"

A stunning girl with dazzling green eyes and a fury of reddish-blonde hair dancing around like flames winked up from the picture.

"Bridget Sawyer?"

"Jamie Zabini's best friend."

"Not if she sees that. I notice Little Miss Sobs-A-Lot isn't present."

"Astute as ever, Jenna."

"Thank you, Pansy."

"I wonder if Blaise has seen this."

"She's going to hex Draco when she does."

Pansy laughed wickedly. "Let her try. I'm just about done with Blaise. She just can't get it through her head that Harry's not interested. She's become so dreadfully boorish and common. Don't let her see this. She's had her head together with Tim so much lately, she doesn't pay any attention to the news any more. I want to save this for when she needs putting in her place."

Jenna smirked and clapped both hands to her mouth.

After a peek at the picture, Harry kept his eyes on his cards. He had no desire to feel guilty about Blaise for something he had no part in. She still kept her distance from the group, but the wistful looks she directed his way made it clear that he couldn't reach out to her. She'd totally get the wrong idea if he tried to tell her about this. She'd think he was rushing to her rescue like some damsel in distress. He absolutely could not encourage her. If he paid no attention to what the other girls were doing, he would be safe.

A week in to December, after double Potions on Wednesday, Professor Snape asked all the Slytherins to remain behind after class. They all submitted their samples of Stomach-Calming Draught and sat around waiting for the Gryffindors to finish and leave.

Most of the Gryffindors weren't too horrible at brewing, Professor Snape's comments notwithstanding. Only Weasley routinely earned failing marks, and on more than one occasion, Snape had threatened him with Remedial Potions. The idea of spending even more time with Snape had apparently motivated him, because from the looks Harry snuck of his papers, Weasley had managed to scrape "Acceptable" for several weeks now.

When at last Weasley had finished up and departed, the Slytherins all leaned forward with interest to hear Professor Snape's words.

"Is all well?" he began. "Not too overwhelmed thus far?"

"No, sir," they replied.

"Excellent. I hope I will not suddenly have a crowd at my door come the last week of term, yes?"

"You mean you won't be in the common room, sir?" Jenna asked cheekily.

Snape allowed himself a small smile. "Miss Moon, if you applied the time you spent coming up with clever remarks to your studies, you would be at the top of every class."

Jenna grinned and nodded sharply. "Yes, sir."

"On Christmas Day, we will observe a fine old tradition of the Triwizard Tournament, that of the Yule Ball. It is open to students fourth year and above, though younger students may attend if invited by an older student. Mister Potter, your attendance is mandatory, as it is customary for the champions to open with the first dance."

"Ho-ho, Harry!" Draco chortled. "Good luck picking just one girl to go with."

Blaise was not very appreciative of that comment, because she looked away from Draco as though he were offensive to her sight.

"The ball is a chance for everyone to have a great deal of _responsible_ fun. In addition to our guests from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, the school governors, assorted Ministry officials, and other notable persons will also be in attendance. I do not need to tell you that I expect only your most civilized behaviour. I will not have any of you tarnish the noble reputation of Slytherin House with childish antics. I will be on patrol that night, so make sure I don't find you."

The news of the Yule Ball spread like wildfire through dry grass. Every single girl in the school was delighted, it seemed, and about two-thirds of the blokes were terrified by the prospect.

Harry counted himself amongst the terrified. It was bad enough that he would have had to ask a girl to the ball in any event. Had he not been a champion, the girls would have wanted to attend the ball all the same, and Harry would have ended up having to take someone just to avoid taking Blaise. Though they had started making small talk again, it was still very hard to be around her. Now though, being required to open the ball with a dance Harry was under immense pressure from the get-go.

Harry didn't have a clue who to ask. There were so many possibilities. Padma was pretty, but Susan laughed more. Hannah had more curves, but Jenna was taller. And there were lots of other girls in his vicinity too.

Surprisingly, Blaise had not reacted much to the announcement. She made non-committal remarks, but she didn't talk about her dress robes or her hair or anything else the other girls were discussing.

That evening in the common room, Veronica Sawyer, a girl one year ahead of Harry, joined the table where he, Draco, Jenna, and Pansy were hard at work on their assignments.

"Hey, Pansy, got a minute?"

Pansy, who had been reading through Draco's Astronomy essay, looked up. "Yes. Is it gossip?"

"Better. Were you planning on going to the usual affair this New Year's?"

"Unless there is another opportunity. Is there something illicit going on?" Pansy asked breathlessly.

"Perhaps. It all depends on who you intend to tell."

"Who's the host?"

"My sister Bridget."

"I remember her. She was in Elan's year."

"Yes," Veronica said. "Our parents are going to Australia for a private holiday, and they said she could have some friends out on the yacht."

"Wicked!"

"In exchange for my cooperation, I get to invite several of _my_ friends. Since I know you and I would never let one other miss out on such a good time, I'm telling you to bring whomever you want."

Blaise had emerged from the dormitory and approached their table. "Bring who where?"

Veronica appraised the younger girl thoughtfully. "My sister is having a small gathering on New Year's Eve. It's invitation only."

Blaise looked at Veronica evenly. "Well?"

"Well, what? Do you mean are you invited?" Veronica laughed mockingly. "If you elfed for me for the rest of the year, I might consider it. But I don't think anything will get your sister an invitation."

"Jamie? What about her? Why wouldn't Bridget invite her? They're best friends!"

Veronica looked immensely pleased with herself. Her expression reminded Harry of the time Blaise's cat Argent had brought her a dead bird and placed it at her elbow.

"Oh, you don't _know_?" Veronica asked incredulously.

"Know what?" Blaise snapped angrily.

Veronica smirked. "Well, it appears that Jamie, much like you, Blaise, has managed to push all of her friends away from her." Pansy reached in to her bag and pulled out the issue of Witch Weekly. She flipped to the picture of Elan, Percy, and all their friends out on the town.

Blaise scanned the picture frantically. Bridget Sawyer and Elan Malfoy were obviously together. She was sitting on his lap, and they were laughing with each other. The other lads and ladies of their circle from school were all having a blast - without Jamie.

"Shall I draw up a list of duties for you, elf?" Veronica asked nastily. "I'll send an owl to Bridget tonight."

"Bugger off, Sawyer!" Blaise shouted. "Stuff your snotty invitation!"

Veronica continued smirking. "Suit yourself. Have a fun time hanging out with the adults." She stood up and sashayed away.

Blaise looked ready to hex people. "Did you know about this, Malfoy?"

"Everybody knew about it, Zabini. Take your nose out of the books every once in awhile and get a breath of fresh air."

Blaise looked around for support, but Pansy and Jenna were completely indifferent. Harry refused to meet her eyes. Without another word, she exited through the wall.

Harry retired early and pulled out his magic mirror.

"Sirius Black!"

"Harry Potter!"

"Hi, Sirius."

"How are you, Harry?"

"Nervous. There's to be a Yule Ball, and I have to ask a girl. No doubts about it, this is a date."

"Who are you going to ask?"

"I don't know. I just don't know."

"Well, you can't go too wrong. You're a champion. They'll be falling all over themselves to say yes."

"I was sort of thinking of asking Jenna. She's been a solid friend lately. It's hard to worry about imminent death when she's snarking away."

"Do you like her?"

"She likes me. At last year's party, she put quite a snog on me. She told me to never tell Blaise and hasn't said anything since. But I'm not involved with Blaise, so maybe she's just waiting for me to make a move."

"Entirely possible. Don't forget about those Hufflepuff girls."

"Susan and Hannah? Yeah, I've thought about them. But there's also Padma, maybe Mandy, Laine, Ginny. I just don't know."

"Well, Harry, my best advice is that you should take the girl you really like and would like to know better. If you can't figure out who that is, go for style and ask the prettiest girl in school, even if she's a seventh year. Have fun. If you have to do it anyway, have fun with it."

"Thanks, Sirius."

"You're welcome. Any progress on the egg?"

"Not yet."

"Never fear, Harry, we'll riddle it out. Marauders are good at riddles."

"How's Moony?"

"He was fired last night. Foreman didn't give him any good reason. The other workers just plain didn't like him, apparently, and they used a pretext to complain about him."

"That's awful."

"Moderately. He says not to worry, that he's used to it by now. We ought to figure out something that he can do for himself. I've got tons of money, but he's too proud to take a handout. If we can find a business he'd like to run, maybe I can buy it and hire him as the boss."

"Would you be a good boss, Sirius?"

"Probably not. I'd have to play all fierce and demand status reports and so on. He'd see right through me."

"Maybe you could just give him a loan then. If he knew he had to pay you back, that wouldn't be so hard for him, right?"

"We'll see. Don't worry yourself about it. You've got enough to distract you right now, okay?"

"Okay, Sirius. I know you'll look out for him."

"I will. And together we're going to look out for you. We'll get through this damned tournament."

"Somehow."

"Back to this ball for a moment. Are all manner of Ministry muckety-mucks going to be there or is it just for the students?"

"Professor Snape said the governors, some Ministry people, and some other important people will be attending."

"I hope I get an invitation. I'm an important person."

"Yeah, you are."

There was a very quiet pause.

"Okay, we'd better end this before I start getting sloppy."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, me too. It's almost time for bed, and it's Arithmancy in the morning."

"Pleasant dreams, Harry."

"You too. Good night."

All day long on Thursday, Harry wondered who he was going to ask to the ball. All the girls were preening, hoping to attract the attention of the boys. Harry noticed that Blaise had started wearing make-up. Without her older sister Jamie at Hogwarts to stop her, Blaise had thrown her mother's orders about no make-up out the window. She looked very pretty, but Harry felt nothing but sadness because she was setting herself up for disappointment.

Even if he had known who he wanted to go with, Harry would never have been able to ask. Girls travelled in packs! All over the castle, clusters of three or four girls were constantly giggling over the antics of the boys who fell all over themselves to get a date.

Then other boys were completely forward about it. One of the Weasley twins asked out Johnson, a Chaser for Gryffindor, at the table in the Great Hall during dinner. They hadn't been sitting very close, though, so the whole school had heard him. They'd hushed to total silence to hear her say, "Yeah, all right then."

Plenty of girls, too, weren't at all shy about approaching certain boys and asking them out. Harry found himself fending off girls he didn't even know. It seemed like there was a steady stream of them waiting for him outside the Great Hall for every meal, and at the entrance to the dungeons in the afternoon when classes were over. Wherever he went, someone tried to entice him in to asking her to the ball. Harry couldn't even study in the library on Saturday for all the attention and had to spend the weekend in the Slytherin common room.

The one thing that would cure his ills, asking a girl to the ball, was terrifying to him. Harry didn't know how he would be able to go through with it even if he did decide on who he wanted to ask. He complained about it nightly in the common room and dormitory. Sunday night saw Harry in fine voice.

"We have to _dance_," Harry declaimed, feeling almost personally offended. "How awful can it get?"

"You like dancing." Draco was being remarkably unsympathetic.

"But you have to dance with a girl. Real dancing, not just jumping around like at a show."

"I thought we'd established that you like girls."

"But to have to _ask_ one of them?" Harry said agonizingly. "I mean, they want it all proper and such, right?"

"Doubtless."

"Well then!"

"It's not like it's a big deal."

"Oh yeah?" Tim spoke up suddenly. He had hitherfore remained silent, studying at his desk, and Harry had been ignoring him. "Then put your words to action, Malfoy, and ask Pansy to the ball."

"I don't need to ask her," Draco declared haughtily. "Pansy just expects that we're going together."

"You really ought to just do it. You're going with her anyway."

"She thinks so."

"You're not?" Harry was amazed. Pansy and Draco had seemed rock solid, a few arguments aside.

"Harry, I hate being told what to do. With the rare exception, I have always been free to do what I choose to do and not do what I have not chosen to do. I have had the freedom to make up my own mind, and these ridiculous expectations everyone has of me make me laugh. Pansy seems to expect that we're going, but what makes her so certain I would even want to go to this thing? Just because I can dance doesn't mean I like to. She wants to parade me around like something she caught and show me off to everyone. I would rather spend time alone with her, comparing her eyes to precious gemstones or the stars or some rot."

Was there a genuine romantic thought buried in that snark?

"But we're not talking about my reluctance to ask Pansy to the Yule Ball. We're talking about who you're going to ask and how she won't be able to say no."

"So who would you ask, then?" asked Harry. "Sirius says I should ask the prettiest girl in school."

"In our year or the whole school?" Draco interrupted.

"School. But it's not like some bird in seventh year would ever be seen in public with a kid. Because that's how they look at fourteen-year olds." Harry didn't even know who "they" were, but it was true.

"Okay, so below O.W.L. level then." Draco conceded. "No question at all that it's Cho Chang."

"Only if you like that type," Tim scoffed dismissively.

"We are not talking blood status, merely appearance," Draco replied snootily.

"Damned colonial trash!"

"You'd be interested in hearing Father talk about the fine business he's been able to do in the former colonies, then." Draco had adopted the insulting drawl that he usually reserved for Weasley or Thomas or Finnigan.

Tim snorted, but he let the subject drop. "Padma Patil. And by extension, Parvati Patil as well."

"Agreed," Goyle chimed in. "Those girls make you see double and it doesn't mean you've got a head injury."

"I agree with Goyle," Crabbe said, to the surprise of nobody. "Those Patil twins are saltaceous."

"That's 'salacious', you twit," Tim enunciated, sarcastic acid dropping off every syllable.

"That too!"

Draco turned to Harry. "Well, mate? Laine? Jenna? Weasley? It would kill Ronald if you went to such a high-profile event with his baby sister."

"No, I don't think so."

"Blaise?"

"You must be joking. Besides, I think Padma shines Blaise on a good day."

"Oh ho!" Draco chortled. "Well then. You are in a situation. If Padma's the prettiest girl in school, and Sirius says to ask her, then only one question remains: when are you going to do it? Because if I don't ask Pansy first, she'll go spare again."

"Yeah, that. Best place might be Herbology," Harry speculated.

"No way."

"Right, she'll be surrounded. I'm not seriously going to walk up to that flock and ask Padma out."

"Why? What's so hard about it?"

Harry boggled. "You did not just say that."

"Sure I did. I was thinking more that you want to set the mood a bit more. You should get her in the library or at lunch."

"Her friends will still be around."

"So? You're not asking them."

"Maybe you should ask one of them."

"Maybe I should ask Parvati."

"Pansy would kill you."

"Pansy's always saying things she doesn't mean. Do you think Parvati would go with me?"

"Draco, Pansy _hates_ Parvati. There's nothing worse you could do to her."

"I know."

Harry would never do that, but talking Draco out of anything was usually a day and a half straight. "As long as you know. It's not right."

"Neither is her assuming that I'm taking her. Honestly, if I have to hear one more time about her bleeding pink lace and how lovely her robes look, I'll scream."

"If Padma says yes to me, should I find out if Parvati is available?"

"Sure. I don't know what I'll do about it, but sure."

Harry was determined to not let this whole thing drag out any longer than necessary. One way or another, by Monday night, he would have his answer from Padma.

Padma wasn't taking Ancient Runes, but Harry did learn something interesting in Potions. Professor Snape paused in the middle of his lecture and twitched his wand towards Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. A bit of parchment soared in to the air. The girls cried out is dismay as it floated gently over to Snape's waiting hands.

"_What_ have we here? Passing notes in class, Miss Patil? Dear, oh dear, what a _shocking_ lapse of discipline. Well, I'm afraid there's nothing for it but to read your little missive out loud. 'Lav', by which I assume she means you, Brown," he said. "'You've got to help with Ron. He asked me _again_ on the way to class. I don't know how else to tell him no. How can we get it through his thick, potato-shaped head that I don't want to go to the Yule Ball with him?'"

Weasley started turning red, and he looked like he wanted to hide under the bench. Parvati also blushed as Pansy and Jenna began snickering.

"Weasley?" Professor Snape inquired, looking up from the note. "Four points from Gryffindor for harassing a fellow student. Patil? Six points for passing notes in my class. Brown? Six more. You will all keep any talk of the Yule Ball outside of this classroom."

Snape carried on with his lesson, and Harry filed the tidbit in his memory. He shared a speculative look with Draco. They didn't speak about it on the way up to lunch, nor at the table. Harry looked over at the Ravenclaw table but quickly looked away. He was nervous enough about her friends being around, never mind her house and the whole school!

Harry was thoughtful during History of Magic with Hufflepuff. He hurried with the others as they headed to double Herbology with Ravenclaw to round off their Monday classes. To his irritation, Padma rushed off as soon as the lesson was over.

At dinner, Harry was quite upset with himself. He'd resolved to ask Padma today, but he hadn't had a chance to try to speak to her quietly. The timing hadn't been right at all. Should he swallow his fear and just walk over to the Ravenclaw table and ask her in front of everyone? With all that pressure, she might say no. With all that pressure, she might say yes.

Harry could not decide, and so he chose not to decide. He didn't want to force the situation and have it go badly. The next morning after Arithmancy, he again wasn't able to speak with Padma. Now it was Harry who needed to hurry off to the next class, Astronomy, a long walk away.

After class, Harry ducked in to a handy broom closet and flipped open the Marauder's Map.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Harry said as he tapped it with his wand. He didn't know Padma's schedule, and he needed to find her before she got to the Great Hall for lunch.

The filling in of the castle on the map was always impressive to him. He couldn't get over the fact that Sirius and his dad had invented such an awesome magical artefact. Not only did it show all the secret passages, but it had a labelled dot representing every student, ghost, and pet in the castle. Now he used it to find Padma.

By Merlin's good fortune, she and her twin sister were together in the library. Harry wondered if they were in Padma's secluded nook where she liked to study. He tapped the map again.

"Mischief managed."

Harry emerged from the broom closet to see Jenna standing there.

"Anyone in there with you, Harry?" she said snarkily.

"Hush, you. Just plotting a bit."

"Oh? Going to ambush someone? Weasley? Or someone more pleasant?"

"Padma. I've decided to ask her to the ball."

Jenna grinned at him. "Good luck. I'd be hurt that you're not asking me, but I'm already going with Warrington. He asked me this morning in the common room."

"An older man, Jenna?"

"Hush, you."

"I've got to run. Cover for me?"

"Sure."

Harry pulled back a tapestry and entered the secret passage. Practically running up the incline, he peeked out from behind the painting. The coast was clear. Padma and Parvati had left the library and were walking away from him. Harry swallowed his nervousness. It was now or never. He stepped out of the secret passage, hurried down the hall, and caught up in the vast entrance hall as they waited for the stairs to shift.

"Hi Padma, Parvati," he said casually. "How are you?"

"Hi, Harry." The twins smiled at him, and Harry felt his stomach doing flip-flops. His composure deserted him.

"Padma, do you have a date to the Yule Ball?" he blurted, unable to make any sort of small talk.

"Not yet. Several boys have asked me, but I haven't said yes to anyone."

"Would you like to go with me?" Harry was amazed at his own boldness.

Padma giggled slightly. "That would be very nice. I accept."

And it was done. Harry could have collapsed. But he forced a smile. "Excellent. I look forward to it."

Parvati was eyeing him speculatively. "Zabini is going to go spare."

"Blaise and I are just friends," Harry said, for what felt like the hundredth time. He wondered when it would start to sound true.

"Parkinson going with Malfoy?" she asked.

"About that," Harry segued. "Are you going with anyone?"

"Not yet."

"If Draco asked you, would you say yes?"

Parvati's eyes flew wide open. "Does he want to ask me?"

"I think he might. He thinks you're pretty. But he doesn't want to look foolish. He won't ask unless he knows the answer."

"I don't know what that answer is," she mused, shooting her sister a glance. "Malfoy is fairly handsome, but do I really want to be known as the Gryffindor who betrayed her house and went to _the_ social event in Hogwarts history with a Slytherin?"

That didn't sound positive at all. "I think it's a smashing idea, myself," he said.

"Parkinson will freak. That's worth it right there. Still, I don't even really know Malfoy. I don't think so."

Harry's smile shrank a bit. "I'm sorry to hear that. I wish I didn't have to say this now."

"Say what?"

"I seem to recall that you owe me a small favour. It was at the Wand Smasher concert last summer, remember?"

Parvati didn't look happy with her recollection. "A favour now for a favour later. Are you kidding?"

"Not in the least. Would you rather I asked you to perform the Dance of the Seven Veils?"

"You wouldn't!"

"I wouldn't," Harry agreed amicably. "But my best mate ought to go to the Yule Ball with the other prettiest girl in our form."

Mollified by the compliment, Parvati shook her head. "I feel like I'm been Slytherined," she complained.

"You have, sis."

"I knew I'd have to pay up someday, and I knew it would be more than I wanted to pay. Okay, I'll go with him. But!" she emphasized with a raised finger. "He has to ask me. I won't go with a boy who can't summon up the courage to speak for himself."

Harry happened to agree. "Deal."

Now that he had a date to the ball, Harry found he didn't dread facing the public. He walked in to the Great Hall with the twins, bowed slightly to them, and joined his fellow Slytherins with a satisfied mind.

"I asked her."

"And?" Jenna said.

"She said yes."

"Well done."

"Whom?" Pansy asked curiously.

"Padma."

Blaise swallowed her pumpkin juice the wrong way and started to cough. Harry ignored her.

"Very nice, Harry. Padma's a nice girl."

"I know. That's why I asked her."

"See that, Draco?" Pansy said. "Harry knows how to ask a girl to the ball. Is it really so hard? Why can't you just screw up your courage and ask me?"

Draco swallowed a mouthful of food, took a long sip of pumpkin juice, put down the glass, and wiped his lips on his napkin.

"Pansy? I have no desire to go to the Yule Ball with you."

Pansy's jaw dropped, and Draco stood up. He sauntered casually across the Great Hall to the Gryffindor table where he sat down next to Parvati and said something that made her giggle.

Tim reached over and plucked the knife out of Pansy's hand as she tried to get up from the table.

"None of that. No killing Malfoy for being a git."

"That _cad_!" Pansy whispered furiously. "He's been leading me on and now he asks someone _ else_? And he asks _Patil_? This is humiliating!"

"I suppose this is where I come riding in like a knight on a white horse," Tim said blandly. "Pansy, I know we've been a bit on the outs this year, but we share a long history. Will you do me the honour of allowing me to escort you to the Yule Ball?"

Pansy's jaw dropped again. She stared at Tim, completely struck dumb. They shared a history of mutual hate. They'd talked about poisoning each other, throwing each other off the Astronomy tower, and drowning each other in the lake.

But there was also some form of affection. In their first year, when fighting across the giant chessboard, Tim had had to sacrifice Pansy in order to win, and it had pained him. She had been scared senseless, but when Tim had promised to stay and take care of her, she had found the strength to complete the move.

All of that and loads more from their early childhood was doubtless flashing through Pansy's memory. The look on her face gradually changed from shock to something indescribable.

"Tim," she said in a clear voice. "I accept."

"Good," Tim said, looking relieved.

There was silence at the table.

"Remember," Tim said, a bit of a glint twinkling in his eye, "I asked you before Draco did. He had to settle for asking Parvati."

Pansy's face grew a beatific smile. "That's true, isn't it? Tim, you're such a nice boy. Now if we could only clean up your language."

Draco did not return to the table, and it wasn't until much later in the common room that they saw him again.

"Well?" Harry asked. He looked up from his History of Magic assignment.

"Harry, you and I are going to the Yule Ball with the prettiest girls in fourth year."

Harry grinned. "Up Slytherin."

"Up Slytherin."

Michelle Holt, one of the third year girls, emerged from the dorm and sat down next to him.

"Hello, noble Slytherin Champion."

"Hi, Michelle."

"Asked anyone to the ball yet?"

"Actually, yes. I'm going with Padma Patil."

Michelle's face fell. "Oh. How unfortunate. I was hoping you'd ask me."

Harry blinked twice. "Michelle, I-"

"Oh, I know you've never looked at me twice. Laine's more your type. But she's getting entirely too full of herself acting as your public relations agent. It's time to knock her down a peg."

Harry didn't know what Michelle was talking about, but he didn't like the hard set of her face. "Laine wants me to ask her?"

"Yes, but you're not going to. Do you remember about a year ago, how you asked us girls for a favour?"

Harry nodded slowly. He was liking this conversation less and less.

"You agreed to owe me a favour, and I've decided to cash in. I want you to ask me to the Yule Ball."

The cleverness of Harry's idea was now biting him on the bum.

"I've already asked Padma," he repeated dumbly.

"Her loss, then," Michelle declared. "You're just going to have to cancel."

"Now wait a minute," Harry protested. "I can't tell Padma I've decided to ask someone else instead! She'll kill me."

"I want what I want. You gave me your promise. You're not a welcher, are you, Harry?"

"No." Michelle really had him over a barrel. "I need to think about this."

Michelle smiled. "Of course. Shall we say, by Friday evening?"

"Fine."

When she had gone, Harry looked at Draco. "What do I do now?"

"I have no idea."

"I need to talk to Sirius."

Harry dashed to his trunk and took out his magic mirror.

"Sirius Black!"

"Harry Potter!"

"Sirius, you're never going to believe this. I asked Padma to the Yule Ball, and-"

"Way to go, Harry! She said yes, right?"

"Yeah, but that's not the incredible part."

"Sounds pretty incredible to me."

"Well just now, Michelle Holt said she wants me to ask her."

"Michelle, have I met her?"

"I don't think so. She's a third year."

"So you told her you're going with Padma?"

"Yes. She didn't care. She wants me to cancel and take her instead."

"I see," Sirius said. "And did she say why you should do this?"

Harry grimaced. "Well, I sort of owe her a favour. See, when I asked all the third years if they'd be willing to let Ginny join their group, everyone else wanted a bribe, but Michelle just wanted a favour. Now she's cashing it in."

"How very Slytherin of her."

"That had occurred to me."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't think I've got any choice. I've got to keep my promise. If I don't, she'll make trouble for Ginny."

"And how were you planning on telling the prettiest girl in fourth year that you've decided to take a third year instead?"

"I was sort of hoping you could help me figure out what to say."

"I wouldn't even know where to begin."

They thought in silence for a moment.

"Who else has dates?"

"Draco is going with Padma's twin sister Parvati because he's hacked off at Pansy."

"Wait, come again? You and Draco are going with the Patil twins, the prettiest girls in your year?"

"Yeah."

Sirius laughed uproariously. "Stunning, Harry, absolutely stunning! Well played!"

"Thanks. Now help me figure out how to get rid of Michelle so I can enjoy it."

"There's nothing else Michelle wants?"

"She's been holding on to this for awhile now. I think it's safe to say I can't buy her off."

"No, probably not. You might try the truth. I think it's the only way Padma might not hate you. They say the truth will set you free."

"The truth is that I'm trapped."

"It's reasons like this that I hate the game of favours. You end up having to do things you didn't want to do."

"Yeah, you could be right."

In need of further advice, Harry sent off an owl to Elan Malfoy. Closer to his own age than any of his other role models, Harry looked up to Draco's older brother immensely. Elan's advice was utterly practical. He suggested simply taking both girls to the ball.

Harry turned the idea over in his head a few times. It would let him keep his promise, and he wouldn't have to be beastly to Padma. All he had to do was convince her.

He called Sirius and told him of Elan's idea. Sirius laughed a bit and said that it was certainly viable. With tacit approval, Harry decided to try.

On Thursday after Arithmancy, Harry pulled Padma aside while everyone else headed to lunch.

"I should never have tried to get Parvati the way I did."

"Now you realize it."

"I do, and I'm sorry. Someone did the same thing to me."

"What do you mean?"

"Michelle Holt, a third year, is cashing in a favour I owe her. She wants to go to the ball with me."

Padma laughed merrily at him. "How deliciously ironic."

"And I don't want to cancel on you, because I like you, and I want to go with you. But I need to keep my promise."

"So what do you have in mind?"

"Would you mind being _one_ of my dates? I think it's the only fair thing."

Padma snickered. "Only because you're getting what you deserve. One condition."

"Name it."

"You dance the opening dance with me."

"Deal."

They shook on it.

"I'm really sorry about this. I did ask you first. Please remember that."

"Not to worry, Harry. If nothing else, this will be one heck of a story to tell my grandchildren someday."

Harry felt himself start to flush, and she laughed at him again. He ran away to double Charms, and after dinner, he sat down next to Michelle in the common room.

"Hi."

"Hi, Harry."

"Here's how this is going to work. I'll take you to the Yule Ball, but I'm _also_ taking Padma. You'll both be my dates. I will dance with both of you, but I'm saving the opener for Padma."

Michelle considered the idea. "I guess it will have to do. Very well then."

"After the Yule Ball is concluded, my debt will be repaid."

"Yes, provided I have a good time. If I don't have fun, you'll still owe me, and I promise to be honest about my experience. Just treat me right. One thing: I want you to ask me. Say the words."

Harry tried very hard not to swear at her. Why did girls always have to have everything just so? "Michelle, will you be my second date to the Yule Ball?"

She really didn't like his wording; he could see that plainly, though she said, "I will," without hesitation.

Harry just hoped he didn't live to regret this.

to be continued...


	16. The Yule Ball

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Sixteen - The Yule Ball**

It didn't seem as though a single Slytherin above third year had left for the holiday. Nobody cared a whit about the heavy load of homework they'd been given. All anybody could think about was the Yule Ball. Packages delivered by owl contained cufflinks, pins and brooches, or any of a hundred other sundries needed to dress up formally. The students were not the only ones looking fancy.

The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continued desire to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at its best this Christmas. The decorations were the most stunning yet seen inside the school. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armour had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them. It was quite something to hear "O Come, All Ye Faithful" sung by an empty helmet that only knew half the words. Several times, Filch the caretaker had to extract Peeves from inside the armour, where he had taken to hiding, filling in the gaps in the songs with lyrics of his own invention, all of which were very rude.

Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds just about every day. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid's cabin. The Durmstrang ship's portholes were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost. During what little free time was allotted, many student built snow warrens and waged war with snowballs.

On Christmas Day, Harry woke up to a pile of packages at the foot of his bed. Aside from the usual clothes, candy, and quills, Harry received a fine penknife from his godfather. It had attachments to open any lock and undo any knot. What an utterly useful thing, he thought. It could help him with getting in to trouble, or it could be a tool to help him through the tournament. Locks? Knots? Maybe one of the tasks would be to find the right path through a series of locked doors. Maybe the champions would have to retrieve a prize dangling from a rope. He immediately put it with his wand, resolving to try it out later.

The hours flew by without notice as they idly played games in the common room, engaged in a snowball fight in the courtyard, and chatted about how excited they were about the ball. That evening, the entrance hall was packed with students, all milling around waiting for eight o'clock, when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open. Those people who were meeting partners from different Houses were edging through the crowd trying to find one another.

Harry's bottle green dress robes looked stunning, according to his enchanted mirror. He'd done his hair just long enough on the top to be a little messy. The sides were cut shorter, at Pansy's insistence. He looked quite dapper.

Draco was wearing dress robes of black velvet with a high collar, which in Harry's opinion made him look like a vicar. Draco wasn't all together pleased with them, but Harry gathered that his mother had selected them and had brooked no arguments.

Pansy, in very frilly robes of pale pink, was on Tim's arm. They were already bickering. She looked absolutely beautiful, but her smile was rather fixed as she glared at the back of Draco's head. Tim wore a simple purple robe made of sheer satin.

Crabbe and Goyle were both also wearing green; they resembled moss-coloured boulders. Goyle had bowed clumsily to Mandy Brocklehurst, who looked radiant in a peach-coloured gown very similar to Pansy's. Where Pansy's began ruffling at the stomach, though, Mandy's began at the hips. Crabbe was being utterly deferential to Ginny Weasley, who had shocked everyone when she'd emerged from the dorm.

Ginny's dress was _very_ daring. Brilliant gold, nearly backless with only a single strip of cloth holding up the front, which had a plunging neckline on its own. Her red hair flowed down to her waist, held back by gold pins and pearls in her hair. Matching earrings and bracelets completed the look, although he doubted anyone would notice when compared to how low cut the dress was. She had a determined expression on her face, and that kept the comments from turning nasty. Harry had to admit, she wore the dress very well.

"Looking good, Ginny," he said teasingly. "Did you borrow that from Laine?"

Ginny blushed slightly. "No, Percy gave me an early Christmas present. Do you like it?" She did a bit of a twirl to show off what was nominally the back of her dress.

"It's fantastic," he said sincerely. "But your brothers look like they want to kill me for talking to you." Fred, George, and Ron Weasley looked fit to be tied, but there was nothing they could say in front of the whole school without looking like tremendously overprotective prats.

"That's nice," Ginny said carelessly. "I talk with whom I wish."

"Good for you."

Millie looked like an angel in white. A wide gold band with silver thread glittering in winter patterns arched across her chest while a narrow band ran from the centre of her chest down to her left hip and flared out to the floor. Even her hard face was relaxed tonight, and she looked almost like a normal girl. Harry grinned at her reassuringly. She made a slight face at him, but resolutely kept on smiling.

Another person with a fixed expression was Blaise. She wore a purple bodice, with a long purple skirt. A white overskirt left a gap in the front to show an embroidered flower pattern. Puffy sleeves, alternating purple and white, ended at her elbows. To Harry's surprise, Terry Boot, in a blue and white get-up, greeted her at the foot of the stairs. Then again, it shouldn't have been so surprising. Mandy and Padma, his fellow Ravenclaws, were going with Slytherin men, and he had apparently decided to return the favour.

Jenna's deep blue gown was enough to set Harry's pulse racing. Not only did it not have straps, it didn't appear to have any sort of fastenings at all! Everything appeared held up by elaborate folds of the cloth. Her date, Charles Warrington the Third, couldn't take his eyes off her, and the Chaser had already gotten lots of compliments from the other lads on the team.

Harry caught sight of Parvati descending from Gryffindor tower and nudged Draco subtly. She looked very pretty indeed, in robes of shocking pink, with her long dark plait braided with gold, and more gold glimmering at her wrists, ears, and neck. She wasn't giggling at all as Draco stepped closer and bowed courteously.

"You look magnificent," he declared, touching his lips to the back of her hand.

"And you look very handsome," she responded. She looked him up and down. "But it's very conservative, isn't it?"

Harry turned his head then and lost his breath. Padma looked just as pretty as Parvati, in robes of bright turquoise. She also had plaited her hair and interwoven it with gold. Bracelets, earrings, and a necklace of the precious metal completed her outfit. His clever flattery that he'd intended to speak was vanished from his brain. He could only stare as she came ever closer.

"Hi, Harry."

"I'm speechless," Harry said. "You look amazing."

Her slight smile grew bigger. "Thank you. I like your robes. We're both wearing sea colours. We match."

"Oh good."

The oak front doors opened, and everyone turned to look as the Durmstrang students entered with Professor Karkaroff. Krum was at the front of the party, with no escort. Over their heads he saw that an area of lawn right in front of the castle had been transformed into a sort of grotto full of fairy lights - meaning hundreds of actual living fairies were sitting in the rosebushes that had been conjured there, and fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be Father Christmas and his reindeer.

Krum made his way over to where Harry's friends were standing. To his utter astonishment, Krum stopped in front of Millie. He bowed low and kissed her hand, just as Draco had Parvati. Millie, her cheeks furiously red, even through her make-up, placed one hand on his shoulder. He straightened, and offered his arm.

"When did _that_ happen?" Harry asked Draco. It was completely sudden, at least to him. Had he not been paying attention?

"Your guess is as good as mine. Why wouldn't she tell us?"

"She probably didn't want you to tease her."

"I would never tease Millie," Draco protested in a hurt tone.

"You were teasing her not five minutes ago about cleaning up real good."

"I wasn't teasing! She looks great!"

"Asking her what prompted her to learn a Glamour Charm was not nice, Draco."

"Her mother designed that robe. I will wager money that there's a Glamour Charm _somewhere_ in there."

Professor McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat, told them to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside; they were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down.

Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies stationed themselves nearest the doors; Davies looked so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a partner that he could hardly take his eyes off her. Her silver gown looked like it had been painted on. Her legs were wrapped in shimmering cloth, and a long train was looped casually over her arm. Diggory and Cho Chang were close to them, with Harry, Krum, Millie, and Padma on the other side of the doors.

"Good choice," Harry said to Krum.

"Da. All the other girls act too silly. Millicent did not make ein spectacle of me."

"Yeah, I know he's famous," Millie said with a wry grin. "But so are you, Harry, and I can be myself with you. It made it a lot easier to just talk to Viktor as a person."

"She does most of the talking," Krum offered. "I just listen. It is helping to improve mine English."

Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall returned. "Champions, get in line in pairs. Follow me."

They did so, and everyone in the Great Hall applauded as they entered and started walking up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting. The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions approached the top table. Karkaroff looked unhappy, but that was nothing new, so far as Harry was concerned. Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students; and Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding them politely. The fifth seat at the table was again occupied by Percy Weasley.

When the champions and their partners reached the table, Percy drew out the empty chair beside him, staring pointedly at Harry. Harry took the hint and sat down next to Percy, who was wearing brand-new, navy-blue dress robes and an expression of such satisfaction, Harry wish he felt half as confident.

There was no food as yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus were lying in front of each of them. Harry picked his up uncertainly and looked around; there were no waiters. Dumbledore, however, looked carefully down at his own menu, then said very clearly to his plate, "Pork chops!" And pork chops appeared. Getting the idea, the rest of the table placed their orders with their plates too.

"Having fun, Percy?" Harry asked. "Where's Lynn?"

"There's not enough room for her here at the top table, so she's eating with Elan and Bridget."

"Elan's here?"

Percy nodded. "He's sitting with Mister Malfoy and some of the other governors."

"So congratulations," Harry said, suddenly remembering. "Quite the promotion, isn't it? Seems like only yesterday that you were just Crouch's assistant."

"Yes, it's quite fortuitous timing for me. Mister Crouch suddenly became quite ill. His retirement came as quite a surprise to everyone, even me. He told me everything, you see. I was running half of the department from my very first day on the job. Mister Malfoy must have put in a very good reference for me, because Mister Crouch trusted me implicitly."

"It's good to know they recognized the hard work you were doing. They made you the actual department head, right?"

"Yes, they did. They said there was no one more qualified. Youngest in Ministry history. I wanted my folks to be so proud."

Percy looked wistful for a moment, but he took a bite of his fish and changed the subject. "Well done against the dragon. Figured out the egg yet?"

"No."

"You will. It's easy enough."

"Maybe if you know the answer."

"That is true. But we mustn't speak of it."

"True. So Ginny says you helped her pick out her dress."

Percy turned red. "I wouldn't put it like that. I gave her a sack of Galleons and turned her loose. In retrospect, perhaps I should have supervised her purchases more closely."

"It must be hard, not being here at school to look after her."

"I'm living my own life now. I'm not welcome at home any more, and Ginny's under a lot of scrutiny from Mum and Dad as well. I worry about her."

"I'm keeping an eye on her," Harry said reassuringly. "She's doing pretty well."

"That's what her letters say. I'm glad. Thanks again for all you've done for her."

"You're welcome, Percy."

"So Padma," Percy said, changing the subject. "What made you say yes to this clumsy toe-stomper?"

Padma giggled nervously. "He's got a great sense of humour."

When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments, and Harry, who had been so interested in watching them that he had almost forgotten what was coming, suddenly realized that the lanterns on all the other tables had gone out, and that the other champions and their partners were standing up.

"Come on!" Padma said excitedly. "We're supposed to dance now!"

Harry escorted Padma onto the brightly lit dance floor. He placed one hand on her waist, and held her hand firmly in the other. The Weird Sisters struck up a slow, mournful tune; they were off!

They weren't doing too badly. Harry didn't think he'd ever be good enough to take it on the road, but he wasn't stepping on Padma's feet _too_ much. She let him lead, encouraging him with her smile. He relaxed a bit, having just a tiny bit of fun, and before long, many of the other students also came onto the dance floor, and the champions were no longer the centre of attention.

"Having a good time?" Harry asked his date.

"I am. You?"

"So far."

"Good. You're not a bad dancer. I'm rather surprised."

"I had good teachers. Pansy and Jenna were very patient with me."

"My toes thank them."

When the first song ended, Harry bowed respectfully to Padma, escorted her off the dance floor, and went to find his other date.

Michelle was sitting with Ginny, Crabbe, and Goyle and his date, Mandy Brocklehurst. She stood up expectantly as Harry and Padma approached. Harry pulled out Padma's chair and waited for her to sit down.

Michelle was wearing a simple white dress with a bronze sash across her stomach. It was nice enough, but Harry wasn't really taken with her. She looked like a little girl playing at being grown up. She wasn't quite a woman, and her outfit didn't try to say she was. Padma blew her away.

Still, a debt was a debt.

"Michelle, may I have the next dance?"

"Of course, Harry."

On the dance floor, Michelle proved not so nimble as Padma, and Harry stepped on her toes almost immediately. "Sorry," he said at once.

"Don't worry about it."

They danced in silence for a few moments.

"Good song," she said.

"Yes, it's very melodic. I like the flow of it."

"I wonder if there are any words."

"I don't think so. This sounds familiar."

After a few more moments of silence, Michelle asked, "So are you having fun so far?"

"So far. I hope the music livens up a bit. This is amazingly stiff. Dumbledore should have hired Wand Smasher. I could have put him in touch with their manager, you know."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm real good friends with Edgar, the lead singer. I can get tickets to any show I want, hang out backstage, whatever."

"That's amazing."

A few steps later, they encountered Crabbe and Ginny. Ginny looked she needed an Impervious Charm on her toes, because Crabbe kept muttering, "Sorry."

"Rough going, Ginny?" Harry inquired teasingly.

"Oh, it's not so bad," she said blandly. "Ow!"

"Sorry."

"That's a nice dress, Michelle," Ginny said to Harry's partner. "Did your mother help you pick it out?"

"No. It's a Bulstrode, you know, the mark of a proper pure-blood young woman from a good family," said Michelle curtly. "I do have to uphold my family name. Ow!"

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. That one was absolutely not his fault. Michelle hadn't moved her foot in time.

"Oh great. Speaking of family, there's my brother," Ginny groaned. "Vincent, please don't hurt him."

Weasley's robes looked about three hundred years out of fashion. They were maroon, a horrible colour with his red hair, and the cuffs looked frayed and ragged. His date, one of the two Gryffindor girls from Harry's Arithmancy class, was well done-up in a simple orange dress that didn't clash at all with her brown hair. She looked like a Chudley Cannons fanatic; it was the same nauseating shade.

"Ginny, don't you have any _shame_?" Weasley hissed as he and his date danced closer.

"Your dame isn't exactly modest either, you great hypocrite." Ginny's tone was scornful. "Hi, I'm his sister, Ginny."

"I'm Chrissy."

"Fourth year Gryffindor, yeah?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Yup."

"How'd he trick you in to going with him?"

"Ginny!" Weasley yelped, flushing red. "I didn't trick her. I just asked."

Chrissy smiled. "Yes, he certainly did. I do believe it's the first words he ever said to me."

"You and Amy keep to yourselves. But that's not the point. Ginny, where'd you get such a thing? Which one of those evil Slytherins convinced you it was a good idea? They're all depraved! All of them!"

"That's enough, Ron," Ginny said sharply. "For your information, it was our brother Percy who bought me this dress."

"Percy would never have bought you that! Just because he's a prat doesn't mean he's got no sense of decency."

"You really have got your head in your arse, haven't you? Where do you think he's been living since he moved out? He's not staying on Palce or Derrick's sofa, is he? He's living with Lynn, and it would be a stupid bet that they're sleeping in separate rooms."

Percy was shacking up with Lynn Fawcett? The _Witch Weekly_ article hadn't mentioned _that_!

"Does mum know about it?"

"Yup. If you paid any attention to what goes on at home-"

"It still doesn't mean you have _carte blanche_ to parade around in half a dress!"

"I'm wearing just as much dress as a lot of other girls here. More than some, in fact, so I really think you should shut up. I'm a girl, Ron. When things like this come along, I get to dress up and act girly just like anyone else."

"Well that's completely off the point, isn't it? Mum would be having words with you too, and since she isn't here-"

"So who appointed you my chaperone?" Ginny demanded. Harry thought her question extremely pertinent. "I'm not about to give the whole school a bleeding show with full frontal, am I? I just want to look nice, but if that's not okay with you, if you want me to wear a potato sack and a bag on my head, say so."

Weasley looked like he wanted to agree with that, but he didn't seem to have the eloquence. He didn't dare to imply he wanted Ginny to not look pretty. Harry wouldn't have either, with the way she was giving him the evil eye. His arguments defeated, Weasley glared daggers at Crabbe. "You just keep your hands to yourself. I don't want to see you pawing all over her tonight."

"Fine!" Ginny exploded. "Vincent, my apologies. My all-wise, all-knowing brother has forbidden me to dance with you." She turned to Harry. "Harry, may I cut in?"

Oh, Weasley was going to have a stroke. "Sure. Michelle, we're due to switch up anyway."

Michelle looked very unhappy at that, but she stepped back a bit from the cluster. Behind her, Harry saw Draco and Parvati coming closer.

"Potter, don't you even think about touching my sister!"

"She's the one who wants to dance with me, Weasley. Who am I to refuse a beautiful lady?"

"If it would help the situation," Draco interjected, and Harry grinned, knowing full well in advance that whatever he was about to suggest would be guaranteed to do anything but help, "I could dance with Ginny and let Parvati dance with Harry."

"No dancing with Malfoys!"

"That's a lovely idea, Draco," Ginny said brightly. "Harry, do you mind?"

"Not at all. Save me one later."

"Of course I will!"

Draco smirked at Weasley as he bowed to Parvati, passed her hand to Harry, who also bowed. He respectfully held her by the waist and hand as the next song began. Draco bowed to Ginny, held her in a very close proximity, and they danced off in to the crowd. Weasley's date hauled him away, probably so he could have apoplexy in private.

Elsewhere on the dance floor, Dumbledore was waltzing with Madame Maxime. He was so dwarfed by her that the top of his pointed hat barely tickled her chin; however, she moved very gracefully for a woman so large. Mad-Eye Moody was doing an extremely ungainly two-step with Professor Sinistra, who was nervously avoiding his wooden leg.

Harry felt a bit nervous about dancing with Parvati. What did you say to someone you'd manipulated?

"Having fun?"

Parvati giggled. "Yes. Much more than I thought I would have. I never knew Draco was so _romantic_! He's been reciting poetry to me all night. I don't know what I was thinking when I said I didn't want to go with him. Why didn't you tell me he was so charming?"

"I thought you knew."

"I never suspected he had such a silver tongue."

"He's full of surprises, Draco is."

When the dance was done, Harry brought Parvati over to the table where the gang was maintaining base camp. Padma was sitting there, looking curiously as Harry and her sister approached.

Harry decided to go for a joke. "You two are trying to plays tricks on me. I already have two dates. Do I really need a third?"

"Sorry, sis, I just couldn't resist. You can have him back now."

"Thank you. If we see Draco, we'll send him back over."

"I can't wait."

The twins giggled wickedly. Harry held out his arm to Padma and led her back to the dance floor.

"Did you and Parvati enjoy your dance?"

"Yes. She kept trying to lead, though."

"She never has been much for following."

"Which explains Gryffindor."

"Yes, it certainly does. I was a bit disappointed when she didn't join me in Ravenclaw, but I've always been more studious than her anyway. I think it was a good thing. We are pretty identical, so this let us develop some space separately from each other."

That was pretty profound, and Harry didn't really have any response. They danced in silence for awhile. Then, as the song was reaching an exciting crescendo, Michelle wandered up and tapped Harry on the arm.

"May I cut back in? Seeing as how my last dance was interrupted?"

"So that gives you the right to interrupt me?" Padma asked cuttingly. "Wait your turn."

Michelle bristled. "I'm just as much his date as you are, Patil. I get equal time."

"Can't it wait a few seconds, Michelle? The song's almost over."

"I suppose."

Michelle danced by herself, but still near Harry and Padma. His enjoyment in the dance sucked out by her hovering presence, Harry leaned down to whisper an apology in Padma's ear. "You don't know a good Sleeping Charm, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

Harry bowed to Padma when the dance was through, and she made her way off in to the crowd as Harry took Michelle in to his arms for the next dance.

Jenna and Warrington were dancing nearby. "Oi, Warrington-"

"The Third!"

"The Third," Harry agreed. "Are you treating my friend right?"

"I shall be more respectful of her than we are of Bole's sister."

"That's not saying much. What about your sister?"

"Sam doesn't just demand respect, she hexes you to oblivion and takes it out of your pocket."

"Jenna will slay you with her sarcasm," Harry warned. "She'll wither your with her wit and pummel you with her punchlines."

"And annoy me with alliterations," Warrington riposted.

"Ooh, nice one," Harry said admiringly.

"Stuff it, Potter."

"Nice dress, Michelle," Jenna said neutrally. Harry took a quick look at her face and noted the tightness around her eyes. Knowing Jenna as well as he did, he hoped Michelle didn't say anything too stupid. If Jenna worked up her wit, Michelle would probably run from the hall in tears.

"Thanks. It's a Bulstrode, but I got a really good price on it, so I didn't have to ask Daddy for it specifically. He was very pleased when I told him I'd saved and planned for it specifically."

"That's very responsible of you."

"Thanks. Yours is very nice too."

That was a vast understatement. Jenna's gown made Harry feel very uncomfortable if he looked directly at her. She was absolutely stunning, and he didn't know how to respond to it. She was his friend, and aside from a single kiss one year ago, she'd never given him indication that it could be otherwise. Harry just wasn't quite sure of how to deal with her very apparent femininity.

"Oh, this old thing?" Jenna said facetiously. "I just reached in my wardrobe and grabbed the first thing that came to hand. Does it look all right?"

"More than all right," Warrington the Third assured her. "You've seen how admiring the lads have been."

"I do so love attention from Quidditch stars," Jenna admitted. She winked at Harry.

The top table was now empty; Professor Dumbledore was dancing with Professor Sprout, Ludo Bagman with Professor McGonagall; Madame Maxime and Hagrid were cutting a wide path around the dance floor as they waltzed through the students, and Karkaroff was nowhere to be seen. When the next song ended, everybody applauded once more, and Harry saw Ludo Bagman kiss Professor McGonagall's hand and make his way back through the crowds.

Harry switched partners again, leaving Michelle at the table and bringing Padma back out. They danced to a fast number, whipping frenziedly about the dance floor as the bagpipes wailed. He was breathing heavy when they finally stopped banging the drum.

"I need air," he gasped, as they headed to the doors of the Great Hall, which were thrown wide open. Harry was shocked to see Sirius sauntering over the threshold. He wore fancy dress robes in a multitude of reds. He spied Harry and changed his direction.

"Sirius!"

"Harry! Looking good, my boy! Padma, you are enchanting."

Padma smiled.

"Why weren't you here for the feast?"

"I didn't get an official invitation. I'm a bit of a gate crasher."

"Excellent!"

"This place looks plenty fun. You kids keep dancing. I'm going to go find a pretty young teacher."

"Well, he could mean Professor Sinistra or Professor Vector," Padma suggested after he'd gone. "I certainly hope he doesn't mean Snape."

"Hah! No, I doubt that. Looks like it's Vector."

The Arithmancy witch wasn't much more than thirty, if she was a day. She was almost as stern as the Deputy Headmistress, but tonight she looked completely different in a pale yellow dress that set off blue tones in her black hair. She was smiling and laughing at some outrageous thing Sirius had said, and they began to circle the dance floor.

A little further on, they encountered Draco and Parvati on the edge of the crowd. She had her arms around his shoulders; he held her close to him at the waist; they weren't even really dancing with the beat of the music. Draco had his mouth very close to her ear, and Harry knew he was reciting more poetry to her. Not wishing to intrude, Harry and Padma whirled away.

The song came to an end, and Harry regretfully escorted Padma to the table. Michelle was waiting eagerly for him, and Harry dutifully extended his hand to her. This was getting awfully tiring. The girls got to rest between dances, but he had to perform double duty. He resolved on the spot never to get involved with two girls at once ever again; it was exhausting!

Back on the dance floor with Padma again, Harry found himself near Elan and Percy, who were having a grand old time of things. Percy looked about as splendid as he'd ever been. His get-up was simple but fine, and the navy blue perfectly complimented Lynn's crimson.

Harry vaguely remembered Lynn Fawcett and Bridget Sawyer as being in their same year, but Elan had always been the centre of attention in that crowd. He rather was tonight as well, with his fancy dress robes in brilliant white and vibrant green.

The most bedazzling, though, was definitely Bridget. Her dress was the same bright green as Elan's robes - or rather his robes matched her dress - with a full skirt and a slit clear up to the top of her stockings. There were no straps involved, and Bridget was showing a great deal of skin. She looked just about as good as Fleur Delacour.

"Evening, Harry," Elan said casually.

"Evening, Elan."

"I see you managed to solve your little dilemma."

"Yes. It was the only decent thing to do, strange as that sounds."

"The truth is often stranger than fiction."

"I'll drink to that. So how long have you and Bridget been together?"

"Oh, about since I got back from Durmstrang. Jamie and I broke up last Easter, and I asked Bridget out sometime during summer."

"I was shocked," Bridget said with a giggle. "Gratified, but shocked."

Harry tried not to think about how that break-up had affected his relationship with Blaise. She had taken her sister's side, and Harry had taken Elan's. Though the curse he had used to disarm Jamie when she had tried to hex him had been brutal, Harry knew Elan to be absolutely upstanding. Rescuing him from the Muggles back during the summer before second year had landed Elan in a bath of hot water, and Harry hadn't forgotten it. The resulting tension between Harry and Blaise, coupled with Blaise redirecting some of her hostility towards Draco as proxy for Elan, had poisoned their budding romance. That she wouldn't let him go had finally killed it.

"Father is much happier about her than he ever was about Jamie. Not that it was a principal factor, but it is rather nice to have a girlfriend he approves of."

"Will we see you at New Year's?" Bridget inquired, changing the subject. "I told my sister to invite you."

"She did, and we will." Harry turned to Padma. "I haven't had a chance to ask yet, but would you like to go to a New Year's Eve party with me?"

"Sounds fun. Sure."

"Outstanding!" Bridget cheered. "Take the Floo to Sawyer Point."

"We'll be there," Harry promised.

"Bridget, darling, I see my parents. Would you mind terribly if I pass you off to my father? I should dance with my mother."

Mrs. Malfoy looked the very picture of sophistication. Her blonde hair was coiled at the nape of her neck, held in place by jewelled pins. Her shoulders and arms were bare, revealing smooth, creamy skin. Black silk ribbon was knotted elaborately across her chest, while twinkling clusters of stars on black fabric hugged her from ribs to hips to knees before flaring out and reaching the floor.

Mr. Malfoy was smartly dressed in a rich blue robe. He twirled his wife around the floor with the ease of a skilled dancer. They were clearly having loads of fun, and Harry hoped that he too might someday know that same closeness.

Elan bowed deeply to Mrs. Malfoy. "My enchanting mother, a beauty to rival all the goddesses. Will you dance with me?"

Mrs. Malfoy's smile could have illuminated a small village for a year. "Of course, my son."

"Father, will you keep Bridget company until I return?"

"Of course. Miss Sawyer."

"Mister Malfoy."

Elan and Mrs. Malfoy took a turn around the floor. Mr. Malfoy turned to Harry.

"Harry, you seem to be spending a great deal of time with two particular ladies, I notice."

"My dates, sir."

"Dates plural?"

"Yes, sir. It was sort of a necessity."

"I should be intrigued to hear the story."

"I had already asked Padma when Michelle told me she wanted to call in a favour. I owed her, and she wanted to be my date tonight."

"So you brought both girls."

"Yes."

Mr. Malfoy shook his head. "You boys get yourselves in the strangest predicaments."

"Yes, sir."

"Miss Patil, you look radiant tonight. I hope Harry is being a gentleman."

"Absolutely."

The music changed at that moment, and Mr. Malfoy scanned the crowd.

"If you will excuse me, Harry, I must go find my wife. Miss Patil, good evening."

Mr. Malfoy took Bridget off in to the crowd, leaving Harry and Padma alone. It was nominally time for Harry to switch partners again, but he really didn't feel like leaving the dance floor only to have to fight his way back on.

They danced a bit in silence, the music too loud to carry on any meaningful conversation. A few turns on, Harry spied his public relations agent and began to manoeuvre his way towards her.

Laine was present with Thomas Lapointe, a fifth year from Slytherin. She was wearing a simple purple affair that hugged in all the right places.

"Hey, Laine. Looking good."

"Thanks. I spent a fortune on it."

"Having fun?"

"Oh, it could be better. My graceful date here managed to trip over his own feet and spilled punch all over me."

"Oh no!" Padma gasped. "Is your dress okay?"

"I thought I was going to have to kill him, but he knows the proper spells. I'll have to throw the dress out, naturally, but I can keep wearing it tonight, at least."

Laine's dress didn't look any worse for wear. If he hadn't been told, Harry wouldn't have noticed anything amiss.

The mention of punch made Harry realize just how thirsty he was. After all the dancing, Harry was a little winded. He really wanted a cold glass of something to wet his whistle.

"Drinks. That sounds like a wonderful idea. Break?" he suggested to Padma.

"Yes. Good idea."

"Laine, I'll see you around. Lapointe, no more messes."

He escorted Padma back to the table and hurried off to get drinks: one for him, one for Padma, and one for Michelle. He sat down, glad to rest his feet.

Tim and Pansy were sitting, as they had been all night. She was riveted by the couple slowly turning off in the corner. She hadn't taken her eyes off of Draco and Parvati. The scowl on Tim's face was growing larger and larger.

Pansy sighed deeply, and Tim finally snapped. He stood up and glared down at Pansy. "Do you want to dance or not?"

"No."

"Fine." He turned and stomped off.

Startled, Harry followed him. In the entrance hall, Tim clattered down the stone steps to the dungeons.

"Hey, Tim! Wait!"

"What do you want, Harry?"

"What's going on?"

"If I'd wanted a miserable holiday, I would have gone home."

"What's that mean?"

"My dad hasn't left his laboratory for months. Now that I'm not there, I don't know if he's taking care of himself. I don't even know if he's alive, because he hasn't answered any of my letters!"

"Is that why you've been such a miserable sod for the past three months?"

"Piss off!" Tim snapped.

"Well you have been, haven't you? Look, I'm sorry about your dad, but how is treating all of us badly supposed to help?"

"I'm going to bed."

Harry watched Tim storm down the stone steps to the dungeons, feeling all together different than he had when the same scene had played out earlier in the year. Whereas he'd previously wondered what could possibly be wrong with his brilliant friend, now Harry's heart ached with sympathy. No wonder Tim had been so surly. If Harry had been worried about Sirius, he probably would be in the same state. It still didn't excuse his behaviour, Harry reminded himself. He wasn't going to let anyone talk about his mum like Tim ranted on about Muggleborns. But still; love the sinner, hate the sin.

Back in the Great Hall, Harry really didn't feel like dancing, but he made himself go to Pansy and quietly ask her if she wanted to dance. Just as quietly, she declined.

Blaise, who was watching Harry as she had done all night from a nearby table, said something to Terry and left the hall without waiting for his response. Terry watched her go with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

Harry absently held out a hand to Padma, who took it. They walked over and joined the sad-looking Ravenclaw boy.

"So Merlin's white horse goes in to a bar," Harry said to break the ice, "and the bartender says, 'Why the long face?'"

Terry chuckled slightly. "Hey, Potter. I should thank you for ruining my night."

"What? Why?"

"Blaise didn't want to do anything except watch you. I know you're not doing anything to encourage her. She's fixed on you. I thought I could distract her, but I guess I was wrong."

"Sorry, Terry."

"Nah, it's fine. If she wasn't mooning over you, she was ranting about how much she hates Elan Malfoy."

"Do you want to dance with Michelle? Or Padma? You don't mind, do you, Padma?" Harry asked belatedly, realizing he rather ought to consult his dates about this before he started making offers of them.

"Certainly not," Padma said, shaking her head. "Terry, I'm so sorry. Let's go have a dance or three."

"Sure. You don't mind?

"Harry's nice enough," Padma said with a grin shot Harry's direction, "but he's got another date to keep him busy."

So Terry and Padma danced together for awhile, leaving Harry stuck with Michelle. It wasn't that she wasn't a pleasant enough person, but her conversation was very vapid. He really didn't care what the latest issue of _Teen Witch Weekly_ had to say about lace frill. Thankfully, he did have a bit of an escape. Terry eventually asked Pansy to dance, and she said yes. They swept formally around the floor, even cracking a few smiles. Harry took the opportunity to reclaim his real date.

At half-ten, the music livened up. It was less formal dancing now, and everyone was having fun. On the floor, people were jumping and grooving to the throbbing beat of the music. Now Harry's whole group would dance together, and Harry found himself with both his dates at once.

"Hey, Harry."

"Hi, Ginny."

"I owe you a dance. Shall we?"

"Michelle, do you mind?"

For the second time, Michelle stepped aside with an unhappy expression on her face. She headed for the drinks table.

Harry took Ginny in his arms. She was taller than either of his dates tonight, and a quick glance at the floor revealed that she wasn't even in heels. It was also very troubling to find a place to put his hands. At her waist and back, there was a great deal of skin and not a great deal of dress. The only feasible option would be to grab a handful of bum, and Harry knew that would be entirely inappropriate.

"Vincent had the same problem," Ginny said knowingly. "I'm not going to burn you, you know."

"Yeah, but your brothers might," Harry joked.

"Let them try."

"Will you defend me?"

"Of course!" Then she began to turn red.

"That's very comforting."

Ginny chuckled slightly. "You don't need to worry about them, you know. They wouldn't dare make a scene. Mum would kill them."

"It's later that I'm worried about, when I might not see them coming."

"You can outsmart them; they're not too clever when they're angry," Ginny said before pausing. "And it's just a dance. Don't worry. It can't be worse than the looks some of the other girls are giving me for dancing with you."

"Which other girls are these?"

"Michelle, Laine, and Blaise, before she left. If death glares were Galleons," she joked.

"Let's not talk about Blaise," Harry requested. He didn't want to hear about how she'd been watching him all night.

"Okay. Want to talk about Michelle? Because we're all dying to know why you asked her too."

"I'd rather not get in to the details, but I just owe her a favour. This was a fun way of paying her back." Harry fervently hoped that Ginny would let the subject drop. He didn't really feel like spelling out exactly how he'd come to owe Michelle a favour of such magnitude.

"Fair enough. I'd ask how you thought you could get away with two dates, but I see you've had bad influence."

"What do you mean?"

"Look."

Harry turned his head and saw Sirius dancing with no fewer than four of the girls from Beauxbatons.

"Sirius is not a bad influence. Take it back."

Startled by the heat in his voice, Ginny immediately apologized. Mollified, Harry gave her a twirl and kept on dancing.

Many people had found the official party to be a bit boring, because the crowd had quite thinned out by eleven o'clock. Pansy had retired; Blaise and Tim were already long gone. Crabbe had lured Ginny outside with an invitation to look at the stars with him. Goyle and Mandy were seen walking hand in hand towards the rose garden.

"What do you say we get some air? This place is a bit stuffy," Draco said.

"I agree." Harry had done quite enough dancing. His two dates had tired him out thoroughly. The night air would do him good. "A stroll to smell the roses?"

"Walking?" Michelle complained. "After all that dancing? Do you know how sore my feet are? Whoever invented heels needs to be put under Cruciatus _immediately_. I can barely stand!"

"You get used to them as you get older," Padma said with a quiet smirk. "I feel like I could go on for hours."

"Isn't that Cushioning Charm wonderful?" Parvati asked.

"It _is_. Wherever did you find it?"

"Lavender's older sister Rose is pretty important on the Committee For Experimental Charms and saw the patent application."

"It's brilliant. I barely feel anything. I'm more than up for a slow walk under the stars."

Harry felt his neck get hot. A slow walk in the moonlight with Padma could likely turn in to snogging in the moonlight with Padma.

"Oh yes," Parvati said, turning a wicked eye on Draco. "I've heard all about the stars tonight. And the moon. And the sun, waterfalls, rainbows; it's been lovely."

Draco stood up and bowed rakishly. He held out his hand, which Parvati accepted.

"I'll bring you back some fresh air," Harry promised Michelle. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Shall we?"

"We shall."

As Harry and Draco exited the castle with the prettiest girls in fourth year on their arms, the crisp bite of the night air felt invigorating.

The front doors stood open, and the fluttering fairy lights in the rose garden winked and twinkled as they went down the front steps, where they found themselves surrounded by bushes; winding, ornamental paths; and large stone statues. Harry could hear splashing water, which sounded like a fountain. Here and there, people were sitting on carved benches.

Draco and Parvati turned left. Harry and Padma turned right. There was no discussion of what was to be done. Along the winding path they strolled, hand in hand, until they came to a small burbling fountain hidden behind a particularly colourful bush. They sat down on the stone bench, and Harry looked deeply in to Padma's brown eyes.

"I had this really crushing poem I was going to say to you," Harry confessed, "but when I saw you in the entrance hall, it completely abandoned me."

"Harry Potter recites poetry?" Padma sounded amused.

"He does. Girls like that sort of thing, I've heard."

"We do. It makes us all kinds of silly."

"I like silly," Harry declared with a smile. "'Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he 's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he 's to setting.'"

True to her word, Padma was getting very silly indeed. Her eyes were a touch unfocused, and a dreamy smile played across her lips. When he finished, she sighed breathlessly.

"Oh, that's just beautiful."

Harry was startled as Padma's hand found his jaw, and her lips were mashing his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and Harry slid his around her waist. Her lips were soft and tender. Harry felt fireworks going off in his head, and there was a definite stirring in places Harry was coming to associate with thoughts of the fairer sex.

"I don't see what there is to fuss about, Igor."

Harry jumped at the familiar voice. He'd been warned about getting caught!

"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening!" Karkaroff's voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. "It's been clearer for months! I am seriously concerned, I can't deny it!"

"Then flee," said Snape's voice curtly. "Flee like the craven you have always been. I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts."

There was a flash of light, and squeals rang through the darkness. Through the branches, Harry could see Professor Snape standing on the path with Headmaster Karkaroff.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!" Snape snarled as a girl ran past him. "And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!" as a boy went rushing after her.

"We have to get out of here," Padma whispered to Harry.

The rosebush concealing them suddenly lost all of its flowers and leaves, and the thornless branches disintegrated.

Karkaroff, Harry saw, looked slightly discomposed to see them there. His hand went nervously to his goatee, and he began winding it around his finger.

"Mister Potter," Snape said, sounding for all the world like he could kill with a mere well-turned phrase, "What are you doing out here?"

"Just getting some air, Professor," Harry said casually. "It was awfully hot in the Great Hall, don't you think?"

"Quite. Have you sufficiently _cooled off_, then?" Snape's eyes were glittering.

"Yes, sir. Very much, sir. We were just about to head back."

"Do so."

"Good night, sir."

They found Draco and Parvati at the front doors of the castle.

"Caught by Snape?" Draco asked curiously.

"Yep. Get off scot-free?"

"Yep. Up Slytherin."

"Up Slytherin."

"Not fair," Parvati pouted. "Professor McGonagall would have taken points from _us_."

The Weird Sisters played a few more songs to the die-hard ball-goers, but things appeared to be winding down. When they wrapped up their show at midnight, everyone remaining gave them a last, loud round of applause and started to wend their way into the entrance hall. Many people were expressing the wish that the ball could have gone on longer. Perhaps they should have hired another band.

Harry waited in the entrance hall with Padma. Eventually the throng dissipated, and Harry found Sirius, who now had all of the girls from Beauxbatons hanging on his every word.

"This is where I say au revoir, ladies. I must bid my godson good night."

"Au revoir, Monsieur Black!"

The French girls all gave Sirius kisses, though some were more daring than others. Harry felt strange watching, yet he couldn't look away.

Sirius looked a bit abashed when he caught Harry staring.

"I'm notorious. I can't help it. And I speak French. I know I should probably be behaving myself. I should be setting a good example. But by Merlin's beard, James would be having a laugh at me, because without any sort of prompting from me, you're here with two dates of your own. I'd have to tell him, 'James, I was far too late on that front.'"

Harry grinned. Sirius absolutely had a right to flirt with the girls from Beauxbatons if they were receptive. And they were certainly that.

"It's been good to see you, Sirius. Thanks, by the way. I really like the knife you got me."

"That's not a Potions knife, but surely you'll find some good use for it. See you in three weeks."

"Three weeks." The next Hogsmeade weekend couldn't come fast enough. Hopefully they'd be able to puzzle out the mystery of the egg.

After his godfather had gone, Harry escorted Padma to the stairs that would take her up to Ravenclaw tower.

"I had fun tonight. Next time, leave the other girl home."

"So there's to be a next time?"

Padma giggled. "Yes, silly. New Year's, remember?"

"Oh. Right."

Silence.

Harry cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose we should say good night, then. It's very late."

"It is." She leaned closer. "Good night, Harry."

Harry lost himself in her embrace once more. The sky could have fallen, and he would not have cared. Was it warm in here all of a sudden? How could it be warm if the front doors were still wide open?

Padma broke the kiss, gasping for air. "I forgot to breathe," she said sheepishly.

Harry laughed softly. "Don't do that. Breathing is very important."

"Good night."

"Night."

Harry turned to go, just in time to see Draco bend his head towards Parvati on the stairs to Gryffindor tower. Their parting was more passionate; Harry saw open mouths and could imagine the rest of what was going on.

Unfortunately, Harry's night was not quite over yet. His second date was waiting for him outside the common room. She took his arm as they headed inside.

"Did you have a good time, Michelle?" He'd done his best to keep her in jolly spirits. This whole dog and pony show would all be for naught if she didn't enjoy herself, and her measure was the only one that counted. Harry was incredibly anxious that she was going to declare she'd had a horrible time and try to stretch this favour out as long as she could.

"Yes. Despite a few irritations, it was a good night. Thank you. There's just one more thing to be done, and our debt is concluded."

"And that is?"

"The goodnight kiss, of course."

Harry felt himself start to turn red. Sweat broke out all over his body. Blood surged through his veins, propelled by his thumping heart. He should have expected something like this.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Why not? It's the customary ending to an evening out."

"Yes, but- Michelle, I don't like you like that. I'm sorry, but-"

"I know that. And I'm not saying we need to go find a secluded spot in the Astronomy tower or anything, but I want your lips on mine for not less than ten seconds."

Helpless to argue, eager to have the matter finished and forgotten, Harry leaned in and closed his eyes. He felt her arms go around his neck, and her lips mashed in to his. Her nose was poking him in the cheek. She was very strong, it seemed, and Harry wondered if she was even keeping track of the time.

After what was surely much longer than ten seconds of snogging, Michelle finally released him. "There, was that so bad? Thank you for a wonderful night, Harry. See you tomorrow morning."

She walked away, swinging her hips. Harry didn't watch her go. Glad to have his debt discharged, Harry went down the boys' corridor to the dorm.

Crabbe and Draco were undressing, throwing their nice robes in piles next to their trunks. Tim's curtains were drawn, but Goyle was nowhere to be seen.

"Did he get lost on the way back?" Harry asked.

"I think so. He told me not to wait up for him," Crabbe grunted. "He and Mandy went for a walk."

"That's so tally. Good for him," Draco said. "Did you see Jenna walking off with Warrington?"

"The Third!"

"Yes, the Third."

"No, I didn't."

"We'll have something to tease her about tomorrow, then."

"Teasing Jenna is like taunting a poisonous snake, Draco. It might be fun for awhile, but then she'll bite."

"That could be fun too."

Harry was tired, but his mind was still racing. He'd had a blast tonight and wanted to relive it all. The lads talked late in to the night, waiting up for Goyle. He finally returned a little past one o'clock, traces of lipstick on his face. They promptly started in with the teasing, but it was all good-natured. When they were done for the moment, they did try to get some sleep. Harry was the last to drop off, and his last thought was of Padma Patil's kisses.

to be continued...


	17. Gallivanting in the Gardens

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Seventeen - Gallavanting in the Gardens**

The last week of the year was awkward, to say the least. All of the drama of the Yule Ball crashed and burned like a flying skrewt, as Millie so eloquently put it.

For one thing, Michelle seemed to have fallen out of favour with everyone. Nobody in the upper years would even speak to her, while Laine's every remark was laced with sarcasm and verbal poison. Remembering what Michelle had let slip to Harry when calling in her favour, he deduced that it had something to do with how Laine felt about him. Michelle became a virtual ghost.

Draco wasn't around much either, spending his time in secluded corners of the castle with Parvati. Harry had thought once the Yule Ball was over that Draco might stop trying to get under Pansy's skin by paying attention to the girl she most disliked. Surprisingly, Draco had maintained his interest.

"I've forgiven him for that snubbing," Pansy said to Harry several days later as they sat in the common room after the evening meal. "I won't forget it any time soon, but I've forgiven him. He can't help it if he's such a buffoon. If he's not mature enough to show his girlfriend the proper courtesy and ask her to the most important social event of our seven years here, then he can just go ahead and consort with the damn Gryffindors. I really don't care. There are plenty of other boys who will be thrilled to be seeing a beautiful, vivacious, well-connected girl like me."

She tossed her head, flipping her shiny black hair back over her shoulders. She hadn't cut it once since Harry had first met her on the Hogwarts Express, and now it was very long indeed. She was very proud of it, Harry surmised, because she loved to draw attention to it.

"That's the spirit, Pansy," Harry said encouragingly. Draco was his best mate, and Harry agreed that it wasn't right for Pansy to have pushed him so hard regarding the Yule Ball. At the same time, he didn't really approve of how Draco had chosen to make his point, by asking out Pansy's worst rival.

"All right, you two, quit looking so cosy," Draco said teasingly as he walked through the common room wall and came over to the couch where Harry and Pansy were sitting in front of the fire. "You're not planning on making a run at Harry, now, are you Pansy?"

"Don't be absurd, Draco. Harry is quite happy seeing Padma."

"But think of the lustre it would add to your reputation."

"You're the one developing a reputation, Draco. I don't need to be dating anyone to be important. Parkinson is a very respected name." Pansy's tone was cool, a marked change from how furious she'd been the day after the Yule Ball. This frosty politeness and rigid courtesy was hard to hear after they'd been so close just a scant few weeks before, but at least she wasn't trying to stick knives in him at every opportunity.

Though right now, Harry couldn't much blame her if she tried. The smirk on Draco's face was pretty smarmy, in Harry's opinion. His strut lately was cocky and self-satisfied.

"Have fun tonight, Draco?" Harry asked.

"Quite."

"Where'd you snog this time?"

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," Draco declared.

"So go ahead and brag about it already," Pansy said sweetly. "Because you are no gentleman, Draco."

"Pansy, you wound me."

"No, I'm over trying to do that."

"I made it quite clear that I had no wish to go to the sodding dance. You persisted in not listening to me. I can't be with someone who won't listen to what I have to say. I will not continue to apologize for this."

"Oh, I understand your position perfectly clearly. I'm merely acknowledging that the genteel thing to do would be to offer alternative entertainment. The Yule Ball was _the_ social event of the decade, and a good boyfriend would have understood his girlfriend's desire to attend."

While Pansy was speaking, Tim emerged from the dormitory with a scowl on his face that deepened when he saw Draco. Then he looked at Pansy for a long moment, the expression on his face indecipherable, before heading for the exit.

"Hey, Tim," Harry called out.

Tim ignored the greeting and stalked through the open wall, past Goyle, who was just returning.

"What's his problem?" Goyle asked.

"What's always his problem?" Draco responded with a shrug. "Where've you been?"

"I went for a walk on the battlements with Mandy."

"Isn't it a bit cold out there?" Harry asked.

"It is. But I put the Self-Warming Charm on myself and then offered to put my arms around her, so everything was fine."

"I'll say. Well done, Goyle," Draco said, offering a rare compliment.

"I'm going to go have a shower and hit the sack. Good night."

"So I've had a letter from my father," Draco said, changing the subject. "He says he quite understands why we three won't be at the party on Saturday. He urges all of us to make as many connections with the important people who are likely to be present. He sent a letter of permission that I'm to give Professor Snape."

Pansy nodded. "I turned mine in this afternoon.

"Sirius said he'd send a letter directly to Dumbledore."

"I can't wait," Pansy declared. "I can't believe we're going to a proper dinner party instead of the same old boring chatter we'd have at Malfoy Manor."

"Hey!"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, they are awfully stuffy, the adults. I don't care about how good interest rates are!"

"I wonder what sort of entertainment there will be."

"Entertainment? Are we talking about Sawyer's party?" Jenna and Warrington the Third joined them in front of the common room fireplace.

"Hey, Harry. Hey, Pansy," Jenna said.

"Hi, Jenna, Warrington," Harry replied.

"The Third."

"Yes, we were. Have you heard anything?" Pansy asked.

"Oh yes," Warrington said. "My sister Sam is friends with Veronica, so I got invited as well. Jenna's my date."

"My, my," Pansy said admiringly. "Well done, Jenna."

Amazingly, Jenna blushed. Harry had never seen her without anything to say. Ever since she had started seeing Warrington, she had become very easy to embarrass. All one had to do was merely say the word "snog".

"And Sam told me that Veronica told her that Lyranna Erato will be there."

"As a guest or to entertain?" Pansy asked archly.

"To entertain, I think."

"Outstanding. She's very talented, and it's sure to set the mood properly."

Warrington grinned and kissed Jenna's hand. His rather extravagent attention was behind her near-constant mirthful giggling, and this time was no exception. It was nice to see Jenna put a bit off her usual snarky game. Harry took a great deal of pleasure in winning more of their teasing exchanges.

"Would you two like the common room to yourselves?" Harry asked cheekily.

Jenna blushed even more. "Yes. Why don't you bugger off and go find Padma?"

Harry had been taking a great many long walks with Padma, both through the castle and on the grounds. Her laugh was delightful, and seeing her with snowflakes scattered in her dark hair set his pulse racing. When she was cold, Harry would steal Goyle's trick and cast the Self-Warming Charm on himself before holding her close. Every walk ended with a passionate kiss, where she wrapped her arms around his neck and refused to let him go for even so much as air.

On Saturday night, Harry and Draco met Padma and Parvati in the entrance hall before dinner. Warrington escorted Jenna from the Slytherin table. Pansy walked alone, and Millie surprisingly joined them as well. In pairs, they exited the front door. On the path to the gate they encountered Viktor Krum, who looked splendid in his red cloak. He wore no heavy protection despite the falling snow.

"This?" he said when questioned about it. "This is nothing compared to the snow ve haff at Durmstrang."

Krum held out his arm to Millie, and she took it with grave courtesy. They set off in the lead, not seeing Pansy and Jenna conversing without words, boggling once more at the very concept of Millie the tomboy going out on a date. Harry shared their amazement, even though he was delighted for her. Seeing Millie done up proper was a singularly unique opportunity, and here she was twice in a week's time.

In the Three Broomsticks, the celebrating was well underway. Christmas carols were being sung by the very inebriated crowd. Everyone was in exceptionally good cheer.

"Sawyer Point!" they called in to the green flames, and one by one they stepped in to the fireplace. The trip through the Floo network was dizzying, but not horrendously so. Harry didn't even stumble as he stepped out calmly and held out his hand to Padma as she emerged after him.

Bridget was waiting on the other side of the Floo. She looked stunning. Her dress was slinky, hugging her from chest to knees. Her reddish-blonde hair flowed over her bare shoulders in waves.

"Harry! Welcome!"

"Good evening, Bridget. Thank you for inviting me."

"Thank you for coming. You're the last to arrive. Please follow me."

There were no lights on in the rest of the house. A single path was marked by small glowing points on the floor. Bridget led the way out the back doors on to the deck. Stairs lead down to the dock, and everyone thumped quite enthusiastically on the hard wood.

The yacht was magnificent. It was fifty metres long, constructed of a brilliant white wood. The three masts reached up in to the night sky. The sails were not yet raised. Across the gangplank, the party was already going on the rear deck.

"All aboard!" Bridget called out, as the last person set foot on deck. "Weigh anchor! Set the sails and cast off!"

The gangplank began to retract all on its own. With the clink of gathering chain, the anchor was pulled up from the depths of the water. The sails unfurled themselves and filled out tightly, though not a breeze was blowing. All by itself, with only the power of magic, the yacht took itself out in to the river.

Looking quite pleased with herself, Bridget led the group to the rest of the party.

The whole of Slytherin fifth form was present. Veronica Sawyer, their hostess' younger sister, was holding hands with David Palce. Joy duMonde, Michael Drummond, Erika Chabré, and Thomas Lapointe were all standing casually in the circle. Samantha Warrington had brought a fifth year Ravenclaw, Sidney Bateman.

Additionally, Elan Malfoy was holding court amongst a crowd of older kids who had finished school. Percy was there, holding hands with Lynn. There seemed to be a lot of couples, actually. Former prefect Sam Palce and Elenor Weiss; Lawrence Derrick and Heather Duke; former Head Boy and Girl Abraham Montague and Jessica Conejo; Jehan Dolohov and Maddy Fitzjean. Peter von Erickson, who had been a prefect in Harry's first year, was with a girl Harry recognized by her fluorescent pink hair.

"Agatha!"

The second guitarist for Wand Smasher lit up with a brilliant smile. "Great Merlin, it's my biggest fan! How come I haven't seen you at any shows? We're on tour, you know."

"I'm sorry," Harry said promptly. "I was very busy this summer. Lots of things have changed for me. I'm living with my godfather now."

"Bring him to the show. He'll have a blast."

"I've played your music for him. We work out to it. He does like it. Maybe. We'll see."

"Where's your friend Nott?"

Harry snorted. "Still at school."

"He didn't want to come?"

"He wasn't invited. He's been a complete and utter troll all term. I don't care what's going on in his personal life; there's no call for treating us all the way he has been."

"He just needs to get out to a show and let some of his rage go. Our music is very theraputic."

"Champagne, anyone?" Bridget offered. With a wave of her wand, a tray of champagne flutes in the air and glided over.

Draco immediately seized two. Elan cocked an eyebrow at him.

"And what makes you think I'm going to let you have that?" the elder Malfoy brother asked, his tone reminding Harry of their father.

"It's New Year's Eve, we are specifically here without chaperones, and you expect I'm not going to take full advantage of it? Elan, please, you're embarrassing me in front of my date." Draco handed one of the flutes to Parvati.

"You think just because we're at a party, I'm going to ignore my responsibility for you? Draco, your girlfriend's kisses must be making your brains go soft. What would Father tell you?"

"Father isn't here. And you're not going to tell him either, unless you want me to start spilling some of my secrets. Stop being such a bore. Nobody is going to get out of control. Unless you think Harry's going to get smashed and start dancing on tables."

"That would be interesting," Padma whispered in Harry's ear, making him blush to the roots of his hair.

"Harry, have some champagne." Draco handed him the flute he held and grabbed two more. He gave one to Padma and raised his up in a toast. "To our hostess," Draco said. "She is not only beautiful, but possessed of keen intellect and grace."

The fourth years all drank, and Bridget acknowledged Draco's words with a small curtsy.

Harry asked a question that had been troubling him ever since he'd caught sight of the crowd. "You didn't invite any of the Quidditch lads?" Harry was there, of course, and Charles Warrington the Third played Chaser. The other five boys from the present house team were not present.

"This is intended to be a quiet party. I love all the guys on the team, but they're a rowdy bunch. This party is designed with a more sophisticated guest in mind."

"What, Bole and Derrick aren't sophisticated?" Jenna asked cheekily. "They'll be crushed to hear you say it."

"Well they won't hear it, will they?"

"Not from my lips."

"Good plan. Everyone having a lovely holiday so far?"

"Oh yes," Pansy said. "It's been wonderful. I've never had this much fun at holiday. All the nice clothes? It's simply fantastic."

"Speaking of clothes," Bridget said. "Millicent, you shocked everyone. You clean up quite nicely. I thought you were the world's biggest tomboy."

"Who says I'm not?" Millie responded, a bit weakly in Harry's opinion.

"I do," Bridget riposted. "That dress you were wearing at the Yule Ball? It looked stunning. I'd say you quite stole the night. Surely you got a bunch of trouble for having stolen Viktor Krum?"

"I don't really care what the gossip mill has to say."

"In other words, they were livid," Bridget said with a knowing smile. "Good on you. Those back-biting bitches need to be shaken up every so often."

"Language, darling," Elan chided gently. "Whatever will our guests think if you are so careless with your tongue?"

"Keep complaining about my tongue, and I'll be extremely careful with it." Bridget directed an arched eyebrow towards her boyfriend.

Elan laughed heartily and planted a smooch on Bridget's hand. "I cannot win. And losing hath never been so sweet."

"Oh, you flatterer, you."

"Come, my dear. Our other guests deserve some of your attention too."

Elan and Bridget moved away, leaving the fourth years standing by themselves.

"We should mingle too. Not that you all aren't stimulating to talk to," Jenna hastened to add, "but what fun is a party if you only talk to people you came with?"

"An excellent point, Jenna," Pansy said agreeably. "I'm going to greet Veronica."

"I'll go with you," Jenna said. "I must thank her for the invitation."

Harry was of a different mind. He hadn't seen Jessica for two years. She'd always been his favourite prefect, and he'd been as delighted as any to learn she'd ascended to Head Girl. He hadn't heard of her since she'd left school, and now would be a perfect time to catch up.

"Well, well, if it isn't the fourth champion," Jessica marvelled as Harry and Padma approached.

Harry tried not to groan. "Yes, that's me."

"Relax, Harry," Jessica said reassuringly. "I'm not at all impressed by that rot. You forget, I once wiped drool off your chin when you fell asleep in the common room."

Harry felt himself start to blush. "Where would you like the trophy sent?"

"Oh, just some flowers will be fine. I love flowers. Make them orchids."

"I'll have one of my people take care of it," Harry promised. "Orchids would go very well with that outfit. You look stunning."

"Why thank you. And I know you're correct, because you obviously have excellent taste."

"Ah, yes, this is my girlfriend Padma. Padma, you remember Jessica and Abraham."

"Head Boy and Girl in our second year, of course."

The girls complimented each other on their outfits and then began to critique every other girl on the yacht. Most of the comments were positive, but a few of the fifth year girls were better off not hearing what was said about their fashion sense.

"So Abraham, I don't think I've ever thanked you for encouraging me to study history. It's a fascinating subject. I earned top marks last year."

"Really? That's so wonderful to hear. Wizarding history is filled with such spectacular tales. I'm presently compiling all the old stories about powerful wands. Did Binns ever tell you about Emeric the Evil?"

"I don't think so."

"He was a very bad fellow, and he had a most extraordinary wand he called the Wand of Destiny. He set out to fulfil whatever he decided his destiny was and left a path of dead bodies across England."

Abraham began to relate the story, but Jessica quickly hushed him. "Abraham, sweetie, no gory stories before dinner. I don't want to lose my appetite."

"Of course, my love. I forgot myself."

"So you're writing a book? A history book?" Harry wondered if Abraham was up to returning to Hogwarts as a teacher. Someone with his sort of dedication would surely be able to inspire young minds. He certainly had inspired Harry's.

"Yes, I got an advance from Whizz Hard Books based on an outline and a sample chapter. I'm presenting each tale in a narrative form, based on verifiable accounts. It's fictional, but only in the barest sense of the word. I may get the words wrong, but many of the conversations and confrontations did really happen with known results."

"I think that's called historical fiction."

"I think they're about to serve the food."

Sure enough, covered platters were starting to appear on the table. Small placecards identified where everyone was designated to sit. Harry and Padma were seated near Elan and Bridget, with Draco and Parvati nearby.

"Quite the coup, Harry, taking first place in the tournament so far," Elan commented in an undertone. "I didn't want to say anything earlier with Krum right there. The whole world is paying attention."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

"Isn't it?" Elan sounded surprised. "The only thing worse than being noticed is not being noticed."

"Hear, hear!" agreed Bridget.

"Everyone thought I'd cheated just because I'm a Slytherin."

"Naturally. Slytherins don't know how to not cheat," Elan replied sarcastically. "We cheat even when we don't need to."

"Yeah, pretty much. I did have a good number of people apologize, though. Once they saw the dragons, they knew I'd have to be crackers to have done it myself."

"Or you're just that ambitious."

"I don't think any amount of ambition can give you that sort of death wish."

"Someone's got a death wish for you."

"So, Harry, did you have fun with your two dates?" Bridget asked, changing the subject.

"Honestly, no," Harry said bluntly. "I would have much rather been there with just this lovely lady." He brought Padma's hand up to his lips and kissed it. "The only reason I brought Michelle was because she called in a favour."

"Ah, the game," Bridget said sagely, nodding her head. "Well, there wasn't any harm in it."

"Other than I'm going to be the topic of discussion on the Hogwarts grapevine for the next month."

"The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about," Elan commented.

"You're so witty, Elan," Padma said admiringly.

"The only thing worse than being witty is not being witty."

"So what else is in store for us tonight, Bridget?" Draco asked. "This is the Thames, isn't it?"

"Very observant, Draco. Yes, we're going to be cruising until dinner is concluded. Then we shall port at the Vauxhall Gardens for some nighttime strolling."

"The Vaux?" Parvati exclaimed. "But it takes months to secure a reservation!"

Bridget smirked like the cat that got the canary. "Yes, it does."

"How'd you get in, then?"

"I know people."

"Must be some pretty important people."

Bridget nodded. "Yes, they certainly are. I can't talk about it, you understand."

The noise of a gasoline engine drifted over the water, a peculiar sound for this crowd of purebloods. A Muggle boat was approaching them at a goodly speed. It appeared to be another pleasure craft. It was smaller than the Sawyer yacht, but there were about the same number of people crammed aboard. They were drinking, not dining; it appeared to be a group of university students bent on getting bent.

They were directly in the path of the oncoming boat.

"Bridget?" Harry asked nervously. "They're coming right towards us."

"Hrmm? Oh, them. Not to worry. Daddy made sure to get the best Muggle-Repelling Charms installed."

Sure enough, for absolutely no reason, the Muggle yacht veered sharply. Shouts of alarm rose up from the Muggles as some of them lost their balance. One unfortunate fellow went over the side and head first in to the water. The captain throttled back on the motor and began to swing around.

"See?" Bridget said airily. "Nothing to worry about."

Harry chuckled slightly. The Thames was a pretty clean river, so the lad's ego was the only thing hurt. Hopefully he hadn't inhaled too much water.

With such a small crowd, it wasn't really possible to slip away for some snogging after dinner. They would be too easily missed. Plus there was nowhere to go. The yacht was big, but not huge - or so Harry supposed. He'd never been on a yacht before. If the Malfoys owned one, they'd never made mention of it.

At the Gardens was an entirely different story. Several other boats had also docked, and there was quite a crowd milling around the stage area. A hundred different beverages were available at the assorted booths, ranging from the relative tameness of butterbeer to more exotic concoctions that Harry wouldn't have even taken for drinks.

"We'll be departing at half-midnight. No stragglers!"

Harry paid a few Sickles for two glasses of some innocuous-seeming punch. He handed one to Padma and clinked his glass with hers. He took a sip and nearly choked as his throat rejected it.

"Harry!" Padma cried.

"I'm fine," he croaked. "Drink punch, breathe air."

"Usually a good policy. All right?"

"Yeah, great." He took a more careful sip and managed to get it down. It was amazingly strong, even moreso than the firewhiskey he'd shared with Sirius at the end of his third year.

Warned by his example, Padma was likewise cautious while imbibing. "Wow," she gasped. "This could be a very interesting night."

"Yeah." Harry took another sip. His tongue and throat had gone numb, and now the drink went down easier. He would have to pay close attention to how much he drank. It would never do to completely embarrass himself in such a distinguished crowd. He would shame himself and his hostess, to say nothing of his girlfriend.

The place seemed made for private trysting. There was no moon, and flickering torches sent smoke curling in to the dark sky. The scattered illumination barely let one see the path. Other couples were meandering in that direction. Harry held out his arm to Padma, and she took it. Together they sauntered in to the night.

A little further on, the torches disappeared. The way was lit by fairy lights in the trees. Shadowed figures could be seen walking ahead of them, and every so often they would duck off the path in to a private alcove. As they passed by, Harry heard a lot of giggling and heavy breathing.

Every hundred feet or so, they came across a marble statue. Harry wasn't any kind of art buff, but he recognized a few pieces. Venus, the armless lady, brought a flush to Harry's cheeks that he was glad to hide in the dim light. He wasn't accustomed to looking at bare breasts. A little further on, Padma started giggling at the unmistakable maleness of David.

Marble was also used to construct the fountains that were scattered here and there. Harry and Padma found one with an empty bench and took a short break to rest their feet. The burbling water muffled any incidental sounds.

A beautiful voice suddenly split the night. Lyranna Erato was indeed performing on the stage, and she was even better in person than she sounded on her albums. She was singing about love, loss, and longing. Her haunting voice carried even this far in to the garden, an effect surely achieved by magic.

"Shall we dance?" Harry asked.

"I would love to."

As he took Padma in his arms, Harry marvelled at how neatly they seemed to fit together. He held her close; she rested her head on his shoulder. They swayed back and forth, more or less in time with the music.

"Thanks for coming with me tonight," Harry said. "I really wanted to make it up to you that you couldn't have me all to yourself at the Yule Ball."

"It _was_ a tad annoying," Padma admitted. "But it was lots of fun getting one up on her all night. The dress that girl was wearing? I'd rather be turned over to Filch for an old-fashioned detention."

Harry noted absently that Padma refused to call Michelle by her name.

"I've got you now, and that's what counts. Let's not talk about her anymore."

"Sure."

"In fact, let's not talk at all."

Padma's head came off his shoulder, and she tilted her face up. Harry closed his eyes and leaned down. Their lips pressed together, setting off fireworks in Harry's mind. Dimly, he felt her arms wrap around his neck. He squeezed her tightly, pulling her body close to his. Her breasts pressed against his chest, a strange feeling that was shooting electricity straight to his groin.

How long the kiss lasted, Harry couldn't rightly say. When he finally broke away, it was from a need for air more than anything else. Padma was also breathless, and she snuggled close to him.

By the cheerfully gurgling fountain they remained. Several other couples passed them by, but none offered greeting. They sat on the stone bench, lips and tongues saying with action what they did not say with words. Her hands ran lightly over the tight muscles he had developed from a summer of lifting weights with Sirius. Moved by unknown instinct, Harry ran his hands down her back and dared to place them on her bum.

She made no objection. In fact, the soft moan she uttered gave him encouragement. She put her lips to his neck and kissed gently down his throat to his Adam's apple. It felt fantastic, and every inch of his flesh was tingling.

Every word he'd ever heard about what to do with a girl had abandoned him. Mr. Malfoy would be scolding him about groping. Elan surely would remind him of all the spots he was missing. Sirius alone would have merely asked if he was having fun. To that, Harry would most emphatically answer yes.

An explosion in the night sky startled them both. Lost as they were in each other, midnight had snuck up on them. Brilliant blues and reds burst overhead. Flaming green spirals shot towards the heavens. All over the gardens, a great cry went up of "Happy new year!"

"Happy new year, Padma."

"And to you, Harry."

"We should probably get back. We don't want them to leave without us."

"No, that would never do. We'd have to stay here." The twist to Padma's smile said she didn't find the idea bad at all.

"And what sweet torture that would be."

As they began to return along the winding path they had taken, they encountered others of their party. Sam Warrington and her Ravenclaw escort, Sidney Bateman, had been admiring and emulating a statue of two nude people kissing (minus the nudity). Sam Palce and Elenor Weiss were walking hand in hand.

Back at the dock, people were returning to Sawyer yacht. With better lighting, Harry could now read the name "Water Maiden" on the side in bright blue paint. He magnanimously gestured for Padma to precede him up the gangplank.

On board, everyone congregated in an interior cabin filled with comfortable-looking couches and low tables. A bar to one side of the room appeared well-stocked. Amongst his many talents, Lawrence Derrick appeared to be quite a mixer of drinks, for he was flipping many bottles around without any visible magic. He served glasses all around.

"Hope you don't mind, Brigh," he said saucily. "But I didn't have nearly enough to drink back there. I could barely tell what half those drinks were, and I never have anything I don't know what it is."

"Carry on, Renny. It'll be just like old parties in the dorm."

"So Percy," a slightly inebriated Abraham said. "Tell us about the glamorous life of a department head."

"Well, there's not much to say, really. The most excitement was the celebration party."

"Tell us!" Abraham commanded. "I need to live vicariously. It's amazingly dull keeping company with books. I love my work, but books don't talk to you, and you have to spend lots of long hours reading them. Those are hours I don't go out and get drunk like I am tonight."

"Oh, are you drunk, Abe?" Percy said with mock surprise.

"Just a little." He swayed slightly as he indicated with thumb and forefinger. "Last time I was drunk, I don't even remember."

"You _must_ have been drunk."

"No, I mean it's been a long time! So catch me up on all the excitement I've been missing."

"As you wish. To begin with, I had no idea I'd been promoted. I was working late, preparing my final report on cauldron bottoms - a real problem, believe it or not. Many wizards have been injured when cheap foreign cauldrons have collapsed due to substandard manufacturing processes and- and- it's boring as all heck, I have to be honest. Important, yes, but so dreadfully dull and boring I could scream. Anyway, Elan sticks his head in my office and tells me there's an important group of wizards I really ought to have a meeting with. So we Apparated over to The Kneazle's Nose. He held the door for me, and everyone shouted 'Surprise!'

"I was shocked, of course. Promoted to Department Head? I had no idea about Mister Crouch's retirement. In retrospect, I should have anticipated it. All the signs were there. He was overworked, and sometimes he would forget the most commonplace things. Things wouldn't get done, so I'd have to take care of it. I started off running half the department and wound up running all of it."

"It's only right that they recognize your obvious talents, my love," Lynn praised. "Have you hired any new personnel yet? I know you were looking at resumes."

"Not yet, but I can take my time. I don't want to rush and hire the wrong person. I can handle the department by myself for a little while."

The journey back to Sawyer Point was vastly different from the trip to Vauxhall Gardens. Everyone seemed a bit more boisterous, even despite the stiff attitude they'd started out with. Like Abraham, Harry suspected they were all "a little drunk", but they didn't get out of control. In no time at all, it seemed, they were pulling in to the dock again.

"This is the end of the night, my friends," Bridget said loudly. "Thank you so much for coming. It has been a great pleasure to have you all here, and I hope to do it again very soon. Travel safely."

Harry stumbled when he exited the fireplace in the Three Broomsticks. The crowd there had largely dispersed, and only a few solitary figures lingered over their ale cups. Madam Rosmerta was waving her wand at the dirty tables, sending glassware and dishes towards the kitchen. She ignored the arriving students, who quickly hurried out in to the cold.

Snow was still lightly falling, making the whole world seem slightly muffled. Their own footsteps made no noise other than the crunching of snow, but sound carried rapidly through the still night. They could clearly hear the Blast-Ended Skrewts in their cages, and they didn't seem appreciative of the new year.

Krum and Millie fell back as they approached the Durmstrang ship. Harry didn't look, not wishing to intrude on their privacy.

In the entrance hall, most of the Slytherins moved immediately for the stone steps down to the dungeons. Harry bade Padma a fond goodnight, leaving her with a tender kiss. Draco was likewise gentle with Parvati, and the two girls ascended the stairs escorted by Bateman. Only when they were out of sight did Harry follow his housemates down in to the depths of the school.

In the privacy of the dorm, Harry lay down on his bed. Though he was tired, he was not sleepy. His mind was racing, reliving every kiss and caress he'd shared with Padma. Sleep crept up on him quickly, now that he was no longer active. His last thought before his dreams claimed him was how delightful it had been to hold Padma, to feel her body pressing against him. It was the closest thing he knew to heaven.

to be continued...


	18. The First Annual Hogwarts Broom Race

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Eighteen - The First Annual Hogwarts Broom Race**

Madam Hooch, the Flying instructor and Quidditch referee, had been placed in charge of selecting the finest competitors from the Hogwarts applicants to challenge the eleven entrants from each visiting school. While she had toyed with the idea of allowing only the Chasers from each house to enter, the howls of protest that had met her proposal in the Great Hall at dinner on the first night of the new term quickly changed her mind. Instead, the top three flyers from each house would be chosen by her. When asked how she would choose, a wicked smile had slowly crept over her face and she only said, "Tomorrow, after classes, on the pitch."

Nearly fifty Hogwarts students turned up for the trial. In addition to every Chaser from every house team, many who had planned to try out this year before Dumbledore's announcement also wanted their chance at glory. Draco and Millie had hoped to displace Warrington, Pucey, or Montague. They had practised hard all summer only to be crushed with disappointment when the Interhouse Quidditch Cup had been cancelled. When the broom race had been organized, open to all students fourth year and above, they had been the first to indicate their interest.

The Slytherin team had the support of most of the house. A handful of other hopefuls were present on the Quidditch pitch, but nobody reasonably expected them to top the team Chasers. Even Draco and Millie weren't being given good odds, and Draco had been boasting again about playing Quodpot with some Americans over the summer holiday. Harry, Crabbe, and Goyle sat in the stands to cheer on their friends. Pansy and Jenna were rooting for Millie and Warrington the Third. Draco was still a prat in Pansy's opinion, and Jenna's paramour naturally got her support.

"A broom race is a lot different from a Quidditch match. Just because you're good at handling the Quaffle doesn't mean you know how to race," Madam Hooch declared. "Here's how it's going to work: when I blow my whistle, you will all kick off and make for the opposite hoops. You will fly over them, bank left, and do one circuit of the stadium. From there, head to the front gate of the castle. Touch the keystone of the arch, and go as fast as you can towards Hogsmeade. Pass through the energy ribbon and turn back. The first three of you back here win. There will be more than just your fellow racers to contend with. I have designed a few minor obstacles to test you. Good luck. Slytherins! You're up first. Line up under the hoops."

Draco looked eager. He threw a leg over the Nimbus 2000 he'd received from Harry as a Christmas present last year. He and Millie high-fived for luck. Millie was riding her new Nimbus 2001, which she confessed to Harry had been a present from Viktor Krum. Against the assorted Cleansweeps and Comets, the fourth years easily held the speed advantage.

"Go, Draco!" Harry screamed across the pitch.

"Come on, Draco!" Goyle shouted.

"You can do it!" Crabbe bellowed.

"Millie!" Pansy cheered.

"Charles! Woo!" Jenna called.

The whistle blew shrilly. The riders took off faster than any startled bird from the underbrush. They sailed across the pitch, approaching the far hoops. The team Chasers were in the lead, with Millie and Draco hot on their heels.

Black iron Bludgers flew up from the base of the hoops. There were more than two. Harry counted a dozen, and they were moving much more quickly than Harry had ever seen in a match.

Montague swerved to avoid one and flew in to the path of another. His broom shook mightily as the ball ricocheted off and crashed in to Pucey's shoulder. Millie flipped upside down to avoid taking one to the head.

The blizzard of Bludgers slowed the pack down, but only the less experienced flyers stopped moving forward. Pushing through the swarm, the team members soared over the hoops and banked to the left followed closely by Draco and Millie.

The course around the stadium was now augmented with stone pillars that erupted from the ground. Pucey ploughed head-first in to the ground when he couldn't dodge one in time. He jumped back in to the air immediately; he'd taken far worse hits in Quidditch matches, but he was now in last place. One of the fifth year girls got flipped over and crashed to the ground. She lay flat and didn't get up again.

The pack set off to the front of the castle. Draco had caught up with Montague. Each racer held out a hand and touched the keystone of the arch of the front gate of the castle. They turned sharply and rocketed down the snow-covered path to the village. Now Millie had caught up with Montague.

No obstacles were evident during this long straight-away. Within minutes, it seemed that they'd reached the entrance to the grounds. The wrought-iron gates stood open for the trial, and a barrier of glowing purple energy shimmered between the pillars in the morning light.

As Warrington pierced the barrier, he suddenly leaned forward and crashed in to the ground. He kicked up a tremendous spray of snow, as did the others as they reached the milestone.

Draco was the first to get back in the air, and he was having severe trouble with his broom. He couldn't seem to make it fly straight. None of the flyers were going in anything like a straight line. They had to return to the Quidditch pitch, but who it would be was anybody's guess. There was a lot of cobbing going on. Elbows were flying fast and furious, made all the more entertaining by the disorientation caused by the barrier.

Warrington the Third was the first to land. A half-second behind him was Draco, who practically threw himself off his broom trying to snag the lead. Millie, Pucey, and Montague came up in a cluster. Millie jinked left and right, elbowing each boy sharply in the ribs. She inched forward just enough to snag third place.

"Winners, Warrington, Malfoy, and Bulstrode! Gryffindors, you're up!"

As the two houses passed by each other, Draco smirked smarmily at Ron Weasley. The red-haired boy looked determined, and he was carrying a solid-looking Cleansweep 10. He glared at Draco as he walked by, but he said nothing. When Draco arrived at the stands, he appeared to be calculating various scenarios in his head.

"How did he afford a Cleansweep Ten? Why wouldn't we have heard about his good fortune? How long's he had it? Has he been practising? How good is he? He's not a bad flyer, I recall from our pick-up game last year."

"If he heard you complimenting him, he'd fall over," Harry interjected.

"It's honest evaluation, not kissing his arse. It doesn't matter how bloody good he is, because I'm better. I'm going to leave him so far behind he'll have to guess which way I've gone."

"A standard Cleansweep Ten is being provided, so you'll just have to beat him the old-fashioned way."

The best Gryffindors were Ron Weasley, Alicia Spinnett, and Angelina Johnson. Better prepared for the hazards from watching Slytherin, the two team Chasers won handily, and Weasley's sudden elbow to Katie Bell's head sent her veering in to one of the Weasley twins and down to the ground.

Ravenclaw's top three were Roger Davies, Cho Chang, and Biff Webster. Harry wasn't friendly with any of them, though he had faced Chang on the Quidditch pitch.

Hufflepuff's finest ended up being Susan Bones, Airen Summerby, and Roberto Aronstein. He clapped hard for Susan and met her as she walked off the pitch.

"Congratulations, Susan."

"Oh, thanks, Harry! I'm so excited! I'm hoping to make the team next year, if they don't cancel Quidditch again, and they'd better not. This broom race is just the thing to help build Diggory's belief in me. Then all I'll need is a good trial."

"You'll do great. The way you corkscrewed to avoid the bludgers was excellent."

"I just hope the course isn't as bad as the Swedish annual. That runs through a dragon preserve!"

"Yeah, three hundred miles or so, wasn't it?"

"From Kopparberg to Arjeplog. You know what sort of dragons they have on that preserve? Swedish Short-Snouts, just like the one Diggory beat."

"So he'll be able to show you all the tricks he used to get past it just in case they decide to have fun and reuse the dragons from the first task."

"In that case, can we go flying together tomorrow?"

The question caught Harry off-guard. He'd sincerely congratulated Susan and then begun to take the mickey out of her by way of Diggory, whom she was naturally very enthusiastic about. Instead, she'd asked him out.

"If I help you train for the race, Draco and Millie will try to hurt me," he said half-seriously. "Do you want to be the instrument of my pain and suffering?"

"I could give you cold compresses and pain potions."

"I thought you wanted to play Quidditch, not Healer."

Susan grinned at him. "You are absolutely infuriating, Harry. I guess I'll have to ask Cedric after all."

She was on a first-name basis with Diggory? "Sorry, Susan. It's one of those house things. If you were in Slytherin, I'd like nothing better than to help you prepare for the race. But you're not. You're in Hufflepuff, which is a very nice place to be," he hastened to add, seeing a dark look cross her face, "but I'm not a Hufflepuff too, so it's just not allowed."

The idea of being a Hufflepuff was amusing enough that Harry had to fight down a smile. They were nice enough people, but Harry didn't love hard work for its own merit. Given the choice, he would take it easy.

Harry didn't say that he wouldn't know how to explain to his girlfriend, a Ravenclaw, what he was doing going flying with a pretty Hufflepuff with strawberry-blonde hair. Padma had been tolerant enough of Harry repaying the favour of "that third-year girl", and he didn't want her to get the wrong idea about him.

"Stupid house rivalry," Susan rued, kicking at the ground. The stone clanged off the metal support pole of the stairs. "You'd think the most important thing would be to beat Durmstrang and Beauxbatons."

Harry cheekily quipped, "And we will!"

Friday was spent in breathless anticipation of Saturday. The representative from Cleansweep arrived with a great deal of ceremony and three crates of model 10 brooms. The pre-production model Cleansweep 11 was set on display in the entrance hall, drawing all manner of covetous attention.

Draco and Millie prevailed upon Harry to open the Chamber of Secrets again. Down in the depths of the school, a whole warren of tunnels existed for the use of the basilisk. Eithne hibernated now, but the twisting, turning nature of the caves could still be put to use by others.

A course was laid out, using bottles of blue flame conjured with Goyle's new favourite spell. Harry paid no attention to his friends as they zoomed through and back through the central hall. He reversed the Shrinking Charm he'd cast on the overstuffed armchair he'd brought down from the common room and sat down to ponder the golden egg some more.

When he was stumped by that, he meditated, looking for the animal in his soul. When he had no more luck with meditation than deduction, Harry stood up and began to walk aimlessly around the Chamber. It was quite nice now that they'd scrubbed away all the algae and scum from the stone. Good lighting made all the difference.

_Throw down a couple of rugs, get some nice chairs down here, and this could be quite swanky. Don't need any paint with all this stone and marble._

It was easier to see the door now. Harry knew he'd first seen this door on his first trip in to the Chamber. He had been so drained by his adventure that he hadn't investigated at the time. To be honest, he had quite forgotten about it until he had reopened the Chamber this year. There had been no time to investigate, for he had been training hard in order to survive the first task. Now, though, he had time.

It was a plain, wooden door, unremarkable in any way. The wood was hard, petrified. Had it gotten that way down here? Wood couldn't petrify in a damp environment, could it? Harry didn't know. The handle was tarnished, but clearly in the shape of a serpent. Harry tried it experimentally, but the lock was engaged.

"_Lumos!_" Trying not to burn his eyes out, Harry knelt down to look through the keyhole, which was large and old-fashioned. The wand light showed Harry what was little better than a private office. A plain desk with an uncomfortable-looking chair was covered in dust. A few bookshelves held leather-bound volumes and strange curios. It looked as though nobody had been here in a thousand years.

"Harry? Harry, where are you? It's time for tea."

Harry extinguished his light. He would have to investigate this room another time. Maybe something inside could help him figure out the egg. He said nothing to the others about the room and asked how the practice had gone.

There was not another opportunity for them to slip away that night, and at breakfast on Saturday morning, Dumbledore announced that the broom race would begin immediately after lunch. All racers were told to report to the Quidditch pitch following breakfast for instructions.

When the last of the eggs and bacon had been tucked away, Madam Hooch stood up and read all the names of those from Hogwarts who would be racing. Karkaroff and Maxime likewise announced their own students. As the names were called, each student stood in a line at the back of the Great Hall to loud applause. The representative from Cleansweep handed a brand new model 10 to each in turn.

Harry and the rest passed the intervening time playing Exploding Snap, a quick game that they could abandon at a moment's notice. Harry lost track of how many hands they played before they switched to Exploding Rummy for variety. Jenna saved them from tedium by showing them a game she'd learned while hanging out with the sixth years. It was called Exploding Hearts, and despite the name that sounded more appropriate for a heavy rock band, it was very fun. The hearts exploded in your hand every time you collected them, and the queen of spades had a more vulgar mouth than Tim and Pansy combined. Harry thought it much more exciting than the Muggle version.

At last it was time to eat, but lunch seemed to take forever as well. Harry's food didn't sit like a lump in his stomach, as it wasn't him in the race. But he did eat quickly and then sat fidgeting while he waited for Dumbledore to dismiss them. The trip down to the stands was jovial, much as it had been for the first task of the tournament. Harry didn't think he could be much more relieved that he wasn't taking centre stage today. He couldn't thank Draco enough for whinging so much to his father about the tournament that the governors had instituted this race.

Harry liked seats closest to the pitch. He only got to watch two matches a year as it was, and any team member could claim prime seats, just as any prefect or N.E.W.T.-level student could. Jenna and Pansy sat to his right. Millie, Crabbe, and Goyle sat to his left. Laine, Ginny, Arcen, and Lucas sat behind him.

"I heard that scouting agents from Holyhead, Ballycastle, Tutshill, _and_ from England, Wales, and Ireland will be in the crowd," Bletchley said from a few seats away. "Not only that, lots of the Bee Bee Arr Aay sponsors are here too."

"The what?" Harry asked.

"The British Broom Racing Association. Quidditch is the most popular wizarding sport, but it's not the only one. That Quodpot Malfoy is always going on about, for example. I'm speaking of old-fashioned racing. Sponsors give you lots of money to wear their gear or fly their broom or use their products, and you have their logos on your robes. They're always looking for new talent."

Harry didn't think he would much like wearing a label just because he was paid to. He'd publicly support Firebolt, because his broom was the best, but he didn't want to lend his name to substandard products.

The racers were all lined up beneath the hoops at the near side. Draco looked focused and determined. Weasley looked like he was ready to kill someone. The gleam in his eyes was manic.

"Ladies and gentlewizards, honoured guests, welcome to the first annual Hogwarts broom race!" Harry recognized the voice of Lucius Malfoy. He supposed the governors would want to have fun with their own event, just as the Ministry officials had. "In the spirit of friendly competition brought on by the Triwizard Tournament, out of a desire for more students to engage in contest, those students from our visiting schools who were not chosen as champions will now take to the skies against the finest flyers Hogwarts has to offer!"

The stands burst in to applause.

"The course has been carefully considered and will take our contestants over a path far and away from this stadium. Behold!"

In the centre of the pitch, a brilliant fireball exploded, and what Harry could only call a hologram appeared. It was the students lined up under the hoops, only in huge proportion. One of the Durmstrang boys had his finger in his nose.

"Many of you will recognize the Eye of Far-Seeing, which has been adapted to this circumstance by Lila Parkinson and Narcissa Malfoy of the Needed Magicks Task Force."

"That's a handy bit of magic," Jenna noted. "Your mum is brilliant, Pansy."

"Naturally. Best in her year at Charms. Too bad it doesn't translate to me." Pansy sounded a bit offended. She was always one of the worst in Charms class, nearly last to get everything, if she ever got it at all. "I didn't know she had taken a commission."

"Draco's mum, too," Harry said. "She's never said anything about working with Charms."

"She's not as brilliant as my mum, but she's no slouch," Pansy replied. "They're both part of the Ministry Task Force for the Development of Needed Magicks. They're the ones who come up with new spells when it's realized that existing magic is insufficient."

"They just think up new magic?"

"Yup. The Task Force developed Muggle-Repelling Charms, the spells that detect under-age magic, and the Floo. Of course that was a long time ago. They haven't done anything significant recently."

"Wow," was all Harry could think to say before Mr. Malfoy was continuing.

"Contestants will kick off at the sound of the cannon-"

Kaboom!

Filch glared back sourly as every eye turned to him, but the flyers launched immediately. Harry shook his head, amazed that everyone, himself included, had jumped so much.

From the Quidditch pitch, the contestants clawed skyward, elbowing and checking for all they were worth. Several fell back. Nobody was really in the lead yet; they were a mob, without organization.

Up and over the stadium walls and across the lawn they raced. It was a sheer speed match. There were no fouls being called like in Quidditch. Harry hadn't seen so much cobbing since they'd passed a cornfield on the ride to school. Those who played Quidditch, used to this sort of sport, had pulled out in front. They seemed to have agreed to cooperate, probably until the very last stretch. Though they may not have run drills together, every player knew how the others operated. Hot on their heels were the best of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students, about six in all. Draco, Millie, Susan, and a few of the Quidditch hopefuls were grouped in third. The less skilled foreigners brought up the rear.

The front gates to the grounds stood open, that glowing energy barrier back in place. It was a Confundus field, and it affected everyone who flew through it. Having seen this obstacle once before, the Hogwarts students were better prepared for it and pulled out in front of the pack as the flyers crookedly and meanderingly moved towards Hogsmeade.

They crashed in to buildings and obstacles placed in the lane. Cho Chang misjudged her dodge around a stack of wooden crates and clipped the corner. She went in to a flat spin and collided with Alicia Spinnett. They crashed to the ground in a tangled heap. Angelina Johnson swerved to avoid them, but miscalculated her proximity to Warrington. The two Chasers bounced off the wall of the Three Broomsticks but managed to right themselves. They dropped to the back of the pack.

Several residents of the village perched on top of pyramids of boxes. Red and white flashes of harmless Stunners and Twisting Jinxes rained down on the racers as they ran the gauntlet. One of the Beauxbatons boys caught a Stunner right in the face and took out three of his friends. A girl from Durmstrang got hit with three Twisters, and her out-of-control broom wiped out the rear third of the pack.

At last they made it through the village. Up the road, past the last buildings, the Confundus seemed to wear off. They rushed along the wall with a fresh burst of speed. Draco, Millie, Weasley, and Susan were at the front of the pack. Draco and Weasley were flying very close together and punching at each other. Harry wondered if Draco was carrying his wand. They might not have been allowed to have them during the race.

Glowing globes of red flame marked the course. It led out over the water of the great lake around the perimeter. Giant tentacles reached up out of the waves, horrid sucker-covered appendages that grabbed for the students. The squid was _fast_! It harried the racers for the whole circuit of the lake. Roger Davies tried to avoid one tentacle and got caught by two others. He lost hold of his broom and was dragged beneath the waves. He disappeared from the magical display, but immediately materialized in the middle of the pitch.

One lap of the lake complete, they were now directed along the wall and in to the Forbidden Forest. The trees flashed past fast enough to make you wince. It didn't take much for any of the dirtiest players to help guide their competitors into bad situations. The pack really thinned out here as many got up close and personal with the ancient trees. Then suddenly there was a new menace. Tree branches reached out with terrible purpose. The flyers now needed to stop fighting each other and simply try to survive being knocked down by fair imitations of the Whomping Willow.

As the first flyer emerged from the thick of the forest, the crowd began to cheer. They were on the last stretch now. They needed to make it back to the starting line.

Draco was in the lead. He, Millie, Weasley, Cho Chang, Airen Summerby, and a few of the foreigners moved in a constant struggle. There were no more obstacles now aside from the others. Chang slammed in to Millie, and she crashed in to two boys from Durmstrang. Draco got slammed by two Beauxbatons girls, but he twisted his body as tumbled and took them with him. Summerby took advantage of Chang and collided with her, but she grabbed on to his broom, bringing them both down.

Weasley crossed the finish line, and the Gryffindor section of the stands exploded in a frenzy of applause, cheering, and howling. Draco was hot on his heels, but just a moment too late. Displaying poor sportsmanship, he tossed his broom to the ground and stalked off the pitch.

"The winner is Ronald Weasley of Gryffindor!"

"Boo!" Harry jeered. "Weasley stinks!"

"Shut up, Potter," said Ginny behind him.

"Sorry, Ginny. Ronald stinks!" he revised.

Down on the pitch, Weasley, who looked completely gob-smacked that he had won. The representative from Cleansweep walked out carrying his prize.

"Mister Weasley, on behalf of the Cleansweep Corporation, I am pleased to present you with this prototype Model Eleven. You are a superior flyer, young man. Well done. Good luck in the future."

Weasley took the broom with reverence. Quite a few important-looking witches and wizards clustered around him, doubtless some of those agents Bletchley had mentioned.

"Look at him, the great tosser," Draco said venomously. "When did he get that good? How long has he been practising? Ginny, how come you didn't warn me about that?"

"You think I knew about it?" Ginny shot back. "I'm hardly his confidant these days. All I can think is that it was a Christmas present, but we spent the holiday here at the castle, so that's just a guess."

"Where would anybody who likes him that much get the money?" Draco sounded genuinely astonished. "I'm not trying to be snide; I really want to know."

"I'll see what I can find out."

Harry had arranged to meet Padma before choir practice. They rendezvoused outside the History of Magic classroom. They snogged for a bit, but it was too early to be assured of being uninterrupted, so they sat in the windowseat overlooking the courtyard and mainly talked.

"Care of Magical Creatures has gotten interesting. In a good way, I mean. It's always been rather interesting in the horrible way. Professor Hagrid has been indisposed for a few days, so we've had a substitute."

A smear piece on Hagrid had appeared in the Daily Prophet under Rita Skeeter's byline a few days after the broom race. While other, lesser journalists had mundanely reported the who, what, and how, she had gone in-depth in to Hagrid's background. The piece said publicly what had been noised about the school for ages - that he had giant blood. It also went in to details of his expulsion following the death of Moaning Myrtle. What any of that had to do with the Triwizard Tournament he didn't know.

"Professor Grubbly-Plank is ever such a better teacher than him. Skrewts? We had a very sensible lesson today with unicorns. It was so amazing! She had just the one, which was awesome enough because they're supposed to be really hard to catch, and it was so brightly white it made the snow all around it look grey. It had golden hooves and that spiral horn looked absolutely deadly. We girls were able to get close and pet it. I've never felt anything so soft in my life."

Millie had told Harry about the unicorns, but he listened politely as Padma raved.

"I'm glad I don't take that class. Ancient Runes and Arithmancy are much more useful. Of course neither of them is helping me figure out that stupid egg."

"No luck yet?"

"Naught."

"You sound worried."

"I am. End of February's not that far away. It sure looks a lot closer from this side of the new year. I don't know what to do. I don't even know what to try to prepare for. It was the not knowing that kept me up nights worrying about the first task. Now I can find out what the next task is, but I have to solve a stupid riddle first. I hate riddles. I'm not good with them at all. What if there's riddles in the task? I'm going to come in dead last, I know it. I can't count on being able to be tricky like I was with my broom. I'm not that lucky."

"I thought Slytherins made their own luck."

Harry chuckled humourlessly. "We try."

He spilled his uncertainties, glad to be able to just talk. Padma didn't offer a lot of suggestions; she wanted to know more about how he felt about things.

When he'd finished being a worrywart, Harry checked his watch. "We're going to be late for practice."

Despite horrendous performance, according to their conductor, the members of the choir left in high spirits. Harry urged his friends to go on ahead. Draco said he would wait at the top of the stairs.

"Yes, Potter?" the Sorting Hat inquired, seeing him remain beind.

"Hi, Hat," Harry replied. "I wanted to tell you I've decided to stop coming to choir practice."

"You're quitting? What on Earth for? I thought your voice was through cracking all the time. You're one of the best male voices I have left, sad as that may be."

"I'm sorry. I just need to reprioritise. The second task is coming up in a month and a half, and I still haven't figured out what I'm supposed to do. I need to focus on the egg."

"Ah, yes, you are a Triwizard champion, aren't you? I saw in your head the potential for many great things. So far, you have quite lived up to my expectations of you. I'm glad to see this year is no different. First place, I believe?"

"Yeah," Harry said, not feeling like arguing that he hadn't entered himself. "And if I want to stay there, I need to unravel this egg mystery."

"Apply some of that Slytherin cunning," was the Hat's advice. "Your house has historically done well in the tournament. I have the utmost faith in you."

"Thanks. I really am sorry. Choir's been lots of fun."

"I daresay you're the only one who still feels that way, Potter. The fancy is passing, I'm afraid. Soon I shall be relegated back to the shelf in the Headmaster's office throughout the year. Que sera sera. I have enjoyed my little diversion here. Perhaps in a few decades another student will come along thinking they can pull a fast one on the old hat, and I can give it another go."

"Another go? You mean this isn't the first time you've had a choir?"

"By magic, no! I had one the very first year I was created! It failed, as clubs often do, and I sat around bored until a firstie promised with all his heart that if I would only place him in Ravenclaw, he would do me any favour I asked. Naturally I asked for my choir back. What a fine Ravenclaw he was, too."

Harry hadn't thought for a long time about how Millie had bribed the Sorting Hat on their very first night at Hogwarts. At Harry's suggestion, which he had intended to be humorous, the soon-to-be Slytherins had tried to punish one of their enemies. Millie had offered a flat-out bribe to the Hat if it would sort the gawping Granger girl to the house of duffers, Hufflepuff.

"But was he really a Ravenclaw?" Harry couldn't help himself from asking. "I mean, would he have gone there if he hadn't said anything?"

"Oh yes, he was a brilliant student."

"So Granger, she-?"

"Ah, Granger," Hat said soberly. "Such a tragic end for such a bright prospect. She had great potential, that one. Ambitious enough for Slytherin, did you know?"

"Really?" A Muggleborn worthy of Slytherin? His friends would never believe it.

"Intellect more suited to a girl five years older. She memorized her books before even getting to school."

"I think I heard that somewhere."

"And a work ethic worthy of Helga herself. She wanted Gryffindor so badly, it nearly broke me to tell her she really wasn't suited. And she wasn't, you know. She argued, though. The stubborn ones usually want Gryffindor. She probably could have convinced me, if I hadn't agreed to Bulstrode's deal."

"So you sent her to Hufflepuff."

"Yes. It was an even toss between there and Ravenclaw. She would have excelled in either place, but Hufflepuff doesn't see a lot of stars. Their heroes are less illustrious. She should have done quite well there. Poor girl."

Harry really didn't know what to say. He hadn't known Granger and hadn't especially liked her. She'd made a spectacle of him, and she was rude, bossy, and obnoxious. None of that meant she was a bad person. He regretted the times when he'd stood by and let his friends bully her. He was very sorry she'd met a bad end at the hands of Tom Riddle.

"Yeah," he finally said out loud. "Sorry about the choir, Hat. Really."

"You just bring the Triwizard Cup back to Hogwarts, Potter. Do that, and I'll be happy."

to be continued...


	19. The Egg

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Nineteen - The Egg**

Halfway through January was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term, on the weekend of the full moon. Harry was a bit disappointed that he wouldn't be able to see Moony. He hadn't seen his old professor since before school had started. If it wasn't one thing, it was another keeping them apart.

Hopefully godfather and -son would be able to work out the clue of the egg. Harry hadn't thought about it at all, except when he was all by himself in his bed with the quiet of the night his only company. He wrestled with what course he should take. He was stumped on the shrieking egg, but he didn't want to ask Percy again. He'd taken enough of a risk to tell Harry about the dragons. He needed to find another way this time. Professor Snape would tell him if he knew, but there had to be a way to figure out the clue on his own.

Harry bathed quickly that Saturday morning and dressed warmly. He tucked the egg in to his bag. He slid the strap over his head and pulled his cloak on tightly. He tucked his gloves in his pockets and hurried up to breakfast. He didn't linger to wait for the others. Citing his meeting with Sirius, he exited the front gate and took it in a brisk walk to the edge of the castle grounds. The gates opened at his approach, and he made a bee line for the Hog's Head Pub.

Sirius was waiting for Harry at a secluded table. He appeared to still be eating his breakfast. He mopped at his plate with several pieces of toast and washed them down with deep draughts of tea.

"Take a seat, Harry. Do you want anything?"

"No, I just ate. Sorry I'm early."

"Nothing to apologize for. I'm glad to see you." Though they talked nearly every night through the mirror, Sirius sounded relieved to see that Harry was whole and hearty. It was as though he believed dire things were happening the instant Harry was out of his sight. Harry didn't mind, because dire things _were_ happening at Hogwarts this year. Was it really paranoia if someone was actually trying to kill him?

"Did you bring the egg?"

"Right here," Harry said, patting his bag. "We should get away from town, though. It's a mite noisy."

"Let's go, then."

Sirius left a few coins on the table, and they took a walk down the lane towards the Shrieking Shack. It was quiet now, no werewolf inside destroying everything in sight and making the most ungodly sounds.

"Let's go inside."

"We can't get there from here," Sirius said. "Those doors and windows are protected by more than just wooden boards. The magical wards make sure the only ingress is from under the Whomping Willow."

Harry pulled the egg out. "Well, here goes," he said glibly, and twisted the latch.

"Turn it off!" Sirius shouted a second later. He clutched both hands to the sides of his head in agony.

Harry slammed the shell back together and closed the latch. The echoes of the noise rang off the distant mountains, even despite the muffling effect of the trees.

"That is amazingly unpleasant." Sirius had a vast talent for stating the obvious.

"Now do you see why I couldn't describe it through the mirror?"

"Yes."

"Do you know what it is?"

"Not a clue. I've never heard anything like that before. I could do without hearing it ever again. I wonder if Moony knows what it is. He sends his regrets, by the way. He's thinking positive thoughts for you."

"I can use all the well-wishes I can get."

"I'll devote every hour to it. We'll crack this egg."

Harry groaned. "It's too early for puns."

"So are you ready for your next lesson?"

Harry perked up. "Absolutely."

"In the meditative state, your mind will drift. You will make contact with the animal inside. You will have a vision, seeing through its eyes. I will actually see the change. You will become your animal."

"Superb," Harry declared. "Let's get started, then."

The meditation went rather well. Snow kept drifting down the back of his neck, and cracking icicles falling from the trees jangled in his ears. At least he wasn't cold or wet. The Self-Warming Charm let him ignore the worst of the cold wind, and a magical barrier Sirius cast kept the snow from melting as they sat in a large drift. Harry did his best to find the animal in his soul, and a few times he thought he might have had a flash of alien perception. They endured the elements for several hours before Sirius declared it was time to seek a hot fire and a warm taproom. The atmosphere at the Three Broomsticks was jovial. They were just in time for lunch, and Harry gobbled down two bowls of the most delicious soup he'd ever had.

Many other students were frequenting the establishment, and Harry exchanged greetings with loads of his fellow Slytherins, as well as his friends from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. He would have greeted his friends from Gryffindor, but he didn't really have any. The closest would be Parvati Patil, but he figured her as more of an acquaintance. She was dating Draco, but they didn't spend a lot of time mingling; Pansy and Parvati shared a mutual dislike.

Harry recognized more people than just students. Ludo Bagman was sitting in a shadowy corner with a bunch of goblins. Bagman was talking very fast in a low voice. It didn't look as though his appeasements were well-received. All of the goblins had their arms crossed and were looking rather menacing.

It was indeed odd, Harry thought, that Bagman was here at the Three Broomsticks on a weekend when there was no Triwizard event, and therefore no judging to be done. He watched Bagman critically. He was looking strained. Then he caught sight of Harry, and the relief was plain on his face.

"In a moment, in a moment!" Harry heard him say brusquely to the goblins, and Bagman hurried through the pub toward Harry, his boyish grin back in place.

"Harry!" he said. "How are you? Been hoping to run into you! Everything going all right?"

"Fine, thanks," said Harry. "Yourself?"

"Good, good."

Bagman glanced into the mirror over the bar at the goblins, who were all watching him in silence through their dark, slanting eyes.

"Absolute nightmare," said Bagman to Harry in an undertone, noticing Harry watching the goblins too. "Their English isn't too good. It's like being back with all the Bulgarians at the Quidditch World Cup, but at least they used sign language another human could recognize. This lot keep gabbling in Gobbledegook, and I only know one word of Gobbledegook. _Bladvak_. It means 'pickax.' I don't like to use it in case they think I'm threatening them."

He gave a short, booming laugh.

"Never thought I'd say it, but I really need old Barty for this sort of discussion. Him resigning like he did sent shockwaves through the whole Ministry. He was an icon, a symbol, to many. There was once talk he might be Minister someday, you know."

"So what happened?" Harry didn't know this gossip, and a little inside dirt never hurt anybody. Plus he'd have something to share with Pansy later on.

"Well, it's a terrible tragedy, to be sure. All a matter of public record, but distasteful in the extreme."

"And better off to not flabble about it in a noisy pub. Why are you mucking about with goblins, Bagman?" Sirius asked sharply. "Particularly the sort that don't speak good English?"

Bagman turned deathly pale. "Great Scot, is that the time? Well, I must dash. I've got a meeting with Bertha Jorkins that I've forgotten about. Nice seeing you, Harry. Good luck!"

He hurried out of the pub. The goblins all slid off their chairs and exited after him.

"Why didn't he want to tell me about Mister Crouch?" Harry asked.

"Crouch has a pretty colourful story. He works in Magial Cooperation now, but he used to be Head of Magical Law Enforcement. He had a healthy amount of ambition too. He wanted to be Minister someday. Very outspoken against the Dark Side. He was a very strong wizard, and taking a tough stand against Voldemort made him a hero to many. It was a bad time. Every week there were more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing. Voldemort was out there somewhere, and you didn't know who was working for him and who wasn't. He wasn't shy about using the Imperius Curse, so there really were innocent people caught up in it all. We couldn't even trust ourselves. The Ministry was falling apart. They didn't know what to do or how to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile it's spilling over in to their world too. Terror everywhere; panic; confusion. That's how it used to be.

"Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning - I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers - powers to kill rather than capture, for instance." Sirius's face darkened. "Crouch was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban - without a trial. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the dementors either. Crouch fought violence with violence and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you - plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened."

Enthralled with the story, Harry dared to breathe, "What was that?"

Sirius smiled grimly. "Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban."

"His own son? A Death Eater? Who were they torturing?"

"Frank and Alice Longbottom."

"Longbottom!"

"Yes. They were Aurors, and the Death Eaters were apparently trying to find Voldemort and return him to power. They used the Cruciatus for so long, the Longbottoms went insane."

Harry remembered the way the spider had writhed and thrashed as Professor Moody held it under the curse. The contorted limbs flailed; the shrieks none of them could hear went ignored.

"That's sick," Harry said.

"Voldemort was sick. Twisted. He took pleasure in the pain of others, in exercising absolute control over others. The ones who tortured the Longbottoms were sadists. The act itself was enjoyable to them."

"They got caught though."

"I remember when they brought Crouch Junior in. He got a blasted ovation from all the residents on the solitary block. If he wasn't a Death Eater himself, he sure was caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters: the two Lestranges, and my delightfully insane cousin Bellatrix."

"Draco's aunt."

"The same. Heard about her, have you?"

"Mister Malfoy doesn't really seem to approve of her."

"The list of things Lucius Malfoy doesn't approve of would fill several books."

Harry didn't really feel like getting in to a debate over Mister Malfoy, nor did he really want to dwell on unpleasant topics. Crouch, Jr. and all the Lestranges were locked up in Azkaban and none of his concern.

"Well, no need to worry about them, I suppose," he said. "They're all nice and secure in Azkaban."

"No," said Sirius dully. "No, Crouch is not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."

"He died?"

"He wasn't the only one," said Sirius bitterly. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it."

Harry didn't like the way Sirius seemed to be slipping back in to his memories of Azkaban. He looked around for something else to talk about. Good fortune was with him, for someone very pleasant indeed was just stepping through the door.

"Hey, Padma!" Harry called out, waving to her across the tavern. "Over here!"

"Harry! Mister Black!"

"Padma, will you join us?" Sirius invited.

"Sure. I'd love to." Padma shook the snow off of her dark blue cloak and hung it on a hook. She smoothed back her hair, adjusted her white sweater, and sat down. "Hi, Harry," she said, lightly kissing his cheek.

"Hey, Padma."

"I'll just go get another round," Sirius offered, getting to his feet and ambling towards the bar.

"How are you?" Harry asked.

"I'm good. I've been wandering around with Parvati, but she had to go and meet Draco. I still had to get some new quills, so I told her to go ahead. I thought they were coming here."

"Draco left about thirty minutes ago. He was going to meet Parvati, but he didn't say anything about bringing her back here."

"They must be going walking," Padma said knowingly. "She's been waxing poetic about falling snow for several days now."

"They're probably snogging," Harry said cynically. "If he's reading more poetry, she'll get all sorts of silly."

"Oh, naturally. I wouldn't mind a walk in the snow myself."

Harry felt himself getting hot under the collar. Where was Sirius with those butterbeers?

"Here we are," Sirius declared, passing tall mugs all around. Steam rose up, releasing tantalizing scents. "Three mulled butterbeers with all the spices."

"I love this stuff," Harry said, raising his mug in an unspoken toast. "Warm or cold, it goes down like candy."

"It's my favourite. I wish they'd serve it in the Great Hall."

"It's a classic. Hasn't changed in thirty years."

They chatted aimlessly about beverages and sweets for awhile, but Sirius soon got to his feet. "I'm feeling like a third wheel here. I'm sure you want to spend some time with your girlfriend without me cramping your style. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Harry didn't want Sirius to go, but he _did_ want to spend some time with Padma. He reluctantly stood up and hugged his godfather goodbye.

"I'll call tonight," Sirius whispered. "Make sure you've got a story to tell me, eh?"

Harry grinned. "Sure. Bye."

Sirius left the inn.

Harry and Padma were now alone at their booth, and they took advantage of that fact to exchange a few kisses. Harry didn't want to be too exhibitive with the large crowd all around them. It wasn't like it was all people he knew, either, like in the Slytherin common room. Not that he had ever snogged Padma in the common room, but he wouldn't have many qualms about it.

A few booths away, Pansy, Jenna, Millie, and Krum were sitting together. Harry motioned towards them with his head. Padma nodded, and they stood up and maneouvred through the crowd.

"Harry, there you are!" Millie's grin seemed a mile wide. "I was just telling Viktor all about how we played Quodpot at the World Cup."

"Against those Americans?"

"Yeah."

"I haff not played this game before. No Bludgers? An exploding Quaffle? A game of timing and accuracy? It sounds most interesting. Perhaps like the broom race, it could be arranged to play a few rounds of this Quodpot. Most of my classmates are quite able on a broom."

"Nothing like you, though," Harry said. "And nothing like me."

"At last you speak of Quidditch. I had vondered how long it vould take you."

"I didn't want to be vulgar," Harry replied.

"You flew very vell in the first task. I vould like to meet you in the air."

"Perhaps it can be arranged."

Now that the subject had been broached, Harry dove headfirst in to discussion about Quidditch with Krum. At first it was a purely technical conversation, which bored the heck out of the others. Millie changed the subject to the upcoming World Cup and how well Bulgaria would do if they replaced two of their Chasers. Harry mainly knew about British teams. He didn't pay a lot of attention to national teams, and certainly not to anyone not playing for England, Wales, Scotland, or Ireland. None of his friends did, really. Only Millie seemed to know anything, and Harry did his best to stay quiet and only ask intelligent questions when she and Krum started talking about specific players' statistics.

Several days later, Sirius called on the mirror to say that neither he nor Moony had been able to identify the noise. The rest of the week yielded no further insights, and after an unproductive weekend, Harry faced the coming week with trepidation.

What a miserable Monday. His back ached abominably from being hunched over in double Herbology. He'd also managed to get Gnaridurm Sap inside his dragonhide gloves, and now his fingers were tingling. He'd felt plain beaten up, and Draco had suggested a long, leisurely bath.

"I'd take one myself, but I need to finish up my Potions assignment. See you in the common room later," Draco said as they finished their showers.

Harry sank in to the tepid water with relief. It was almost hot enough to where he couldn't stand it but not quite. He laid back delightedly, feeling the sore muscles unknotting already. This was very close to heaven.

As long as he was going to relax his body, he might as well exercise his mind. Harry set the golden egg on the edge of the tub and laid back with a contented sigh. He felt the tension draining out of his tight muscles. He contemplated the egg through half-closed lashes.

What language was the screaming noise? Banshee? Banshee song killed in seconds. So did Mandrake screams. But baby Mandrakes only stunned you if you heard their cries. Was this a baby Banshee cry? It certainly was repulsive enough. Would he have to deafen himself and fight through a Banshee lair? These questions, like so many others, swirled round and round in his brain. He had no answers that helped. All he had were guesses.

He reached for the egg. He would listen to the awful screaming one more time. He turned the latch and the shell opened. The noise pierced right through his head. There was no pattern, no rhythm to the insanity. Harry swore as the egg slipped from his fingers. It splashed in to the tub, thankfully cutting off the bedlam.

It was too heavy and awkward to handle with his toes, and the tub was too deep to reach. Taking a deep breath, Harry ducked his head under the bubbles.

What he heard startled him so badly he nearly sucked in a mouthful of water. His ears were filled with vibrant, haunting voices singing an ethereal song. Amazed, Harry listened, and a desperate hope filled him.

"Come seek us where our voices sound,  
We cannot sing above the ground,  
And while you're searching, ponder this:  
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,  
An hour long you'll have to look,  
And to recover what we took,  
But past an hour- the prospect's black,  
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back"

Three times Harry had to listen to the song before he had it memorized. He latched the egg and set it back on the edge of the tub. He stepped out and quickly towelled himself off. He wrapped the towel around his waist, thrust his arms in to his dressing gown, and carried the egg back to his dormitory. He sat down at his desk and carefully wrote down every word of the song. He nibbled on the end of his quill in deep thought.

"Obviously it's in the lake," he reasoned. "I'm looking for something, something they've taken. Who are 'they'? I've got to find it in an hour. If I take longer, it'll all be for naught."

Harry had learned the basics of swimming one summer at Malfoy Manor. He couldn't yet do more than a few lengths of the pool. He and Draco never built up endurance at swimming, much preferring to hit the open skies on a broom. He wondered if he could somehow conjure a swimming pool down in the Chamber of Secrets.

He needed to talk to Sirius. Harry opened the drawer of his bedside table and took out the enchanted mirror that let him speak with his godfather. "Sirius Black."

After a few moments, Sirius' voice came back through the glass. "Harry Potter."

"Sirius, I figured out the egg!"

"What? Harry, that's outstanding! What did you do?"

"I took a bath with it. I wanted a nice soak to relax and think, and I accidentally dropped it. If you listen to that shrieking underwater, it sounds totally different."

"What is it?"

"Singing."

"Singing?"

"Yeah. It's a clue. Here, I wrote it down."

When he was done reciting the song and his preliminary thoughts on what it meant, Sirius was quiet for a moment. He made a few thoughtful noises, and Harry wondered if he was writing it down himself.

"I think you're right, Harry. It sounds like the noise before was unfiltered mersong. There is a colony of merfolk in the Black Lake. I suppose Dumbledore might have recruited them to help with the tournament."

"I need to be able to breathe underwater."

"Transfiguration to the rescue! You told me back in October that you were covering Switching Spells. And in December you did cross-species Switches. You did quite well, yes?"

"Moderately so. I am a bit up in my marks."

"You need to find yourself a large fish. Switch the gills on to your neck, and you'll have all the oxygen you need."

"What about the fish?"

"Sadly, it will die. I suppose you might take one gill from each of several fish, but you could negate the need by acquiring gills from fish being prepared for dinner."

"That's true. Good plan. Other options?"

"Nothing is coming to mind. I'll talk to Moony and see what he can come up with."

"Okay." Harry had great faith in Marauder ingenuity. "In the meantime, I'll work on that Switching Spell. I don't know where I'll have enough privacy, though. I may get some weird looks if I put fish in one of the bathtubs."

"Just say it's a prank on Gryffindor, and all will be well," Sirius joked. "It was just the reverse for us in school. No matter what we did, if we called it a prank on Slytherin, nobody asked any more questions."

Harry chuckled. "That _would_ work. I've got homework to get to, but I wanted to tell you about the egg."

"Certainly, certainly. Well done, and jolly good luck. Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Sirius."

Harry put the mirror and egg away and wandered out to the common room. Draco, Pansy, and Jenna were still sitting with their heads bent over Potions essays. Harry sat down roughly.

"I solved it," he said simply. It was still kind of shocking.

"Really?" Draco questioned. "That's amazing. Behold the power of bathing."

"It was a complete windfall, you know? I was having the bath, and I dropped the egg in the water. I had to put my head under to grab it, and that's when I heard the mersong."

"Mersong?"

"Yeah. The song is the clue. I've got to figure out how to breathe underwater, because the second task is going to happen in the lake."

"I bet there's a potion to do it," Draco said instantly. "I'll start looking in Most- er, this book I have."

"Sirius is going to talk to Remus, but he thinks a Switching Spell would be my best bet. I need to get a fish."

Explaining why he needed a fish took some time, and after dinner, Harry and Draco took a detour to the kitchens. According to the Marauder's Map, there was a secret passage behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Harry looked at the map for instructions. He tickled the pear, and the painting swung out from the wall.

The kitchens were a madhouse of activity. Dirty dishes were being furiously cleaned and leftover food stored.

"Hello?" Harry said questioningly.

"Yes, sirs!" no less than six elves said, running over attentively. "What is sirs being needing? More desserts, perhaps? Or snacking foods for a party? Please to be telling us, and we's will be providing."

"It's a rather strange request," said Harry tenuously. "I need a live fish. Several, probably. And I need them brought to the Slytherin bathroom."

As he'd expected, the elves were very perplexed by his request.

"Sir is wanting a _live_ fish?"

"Yes."

"To _eat_?"

"Not exactly. I need it for the tournament. I'm one of the champions, you see, and-"

The elves interrupted him with a flurry of conversation. It was hard to make it out, but Harry gathered that the elves would be happy to help the Hogwarts champion.

"Good. Can you bring them up to the Slytherin bathroom in about twenty minutes?"

Sure enough, two elves brought up a dozen fish swimming in floating globes of water. Harry switched the shower on the end to a bathtub and cold water began flowing from the tap. The fish were dumped in and swam around happily enough.

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully.

Not wanting to waste a minute, Harry drew his wand and cast the spell. There was a strange tingling on his neck. He took a breath. It was still normal. The gills felt really weird to his probing fingers. They were definitely Switched. But would they work?

He turned a second shower in to a bathtub and filled it with reasonably warm water. With a Stirring Spell, a steady flow of oxygen through his gills would be assured. Harry drew a deep breath and began to laugh hysterically.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"I'm about to try out gills, and I'm taking a deep breath," Harry wheezed.

Draco chuckled. "You're mad, you know."

Harry stuck his head under water. Reflexively, he took a breath and spent the next few minutes choking and coughing. When he had decided not to die, he tried again. It was hard to suppress the urge to breathe. He had to keep his mouth open and let the water flow through them, but the gills _did_ work. It was very very strange to him.

A day later, Sirius called via the mirror to say that Moony had recommended the Bubblehead Charm, some sixth year magic that Harry had never even heard of. The incantation was a tongue-twisting mouthful: _Burbujee cabeza_. It was Spanish, rather than the usual Latin. Harry did enjoy a little variety, like the Jelly-Legs Jinx, which was in French.

"I don't know, Sirius. I don't know if I want to trust some new trick for a whole hour. What if the bubble pops part-way through? I'll be in a right fix, won't I? And I won't exactly be able to cast it again, will I? At least the Switching Spell is fourth year magic."

"Moony says I'm to remind you about your corporeal Patronus and your Stunning Spell. If you practice plenty before the task, you'll do just fine. A proper bubble isn't popped by ordinary physical means, so even if you scrape a rock, you'll still be able to breathe. Watch out for hexes, though."

"I will practice. I'm also going to be working on the gills. I don't think I'll make a decision until I figure out which I'm better at."

"That's using the old noodle."

That evening after dinner, Harry met Padma in her secluded study spot in the library. He set his bag down and slid in to the overstuffed chair next to her. Thankfully they were both skinny, so it wasn't a tough fit. She leaned in and greeted him with a kiss.

"I need your help with this Charm," he said.

Padma made a thoughtful noise as she read the spell description. "A very interesting Charm. Pretty advanced stuff, too. Where'd you find this?"

"It's from the _Standard Book of Spells_, grade six." Harry had found a copy amongst Sirius' old books in his multi-compartment trunk.

"N.E.W.T. level. Cool. You need this for the second task?"

"Yeah."

"You figured out the egg?" Padma sounded amazed. She must have heard about the awful screeching.

"Yeah. It's mersong. If you hold the egg under water, you can hear the clue. I think I've got to go in the lake."

"Well where's the fun in that? How are we supposed to watch?"

"I didn't think about it. Maybe they'll use the same one as for the broom race."

"Well, I'm sure Dumbledore has it taken care of. Let's get this spell."

They worked on the wand movement for a good half-hour. The incantation fumbled Harry's tongue for just as long. They finally gave it up for the night and devoted some time to studying each other's lips.

Padma broke the kiss and nuzzled along his jawline to the tender spot just behind his ear. It didn't quite feel like tickling, and Harry squirmed in the seat. He didn't want her to stop, but it was driving him crazy. She kissed his earlobe, flicking it with the tip of her tongue. She traced the whorls and curves, and Harry didn't know which way was up. Her lips slowly moved down his neck, gently sucking and nibbling. He was going mad, and he couldn't be enjoying himself more.

Harry opened his eyes and using one finger, guided Padma's mouth back up to his. Their teeth clicked together. He kissed the corner of her mouth, slowly moving down her smooth skin to the nape of her neck, which was just barely exposed. He tried to imitate what she had done to him. A happy-sounding growl rumbled under his lips. Every so often she would gasp or clutch at him with an iron hand.

Just then, the bell signalling ten minutes to curfew rang. Padma looked very flustered when Harry stopped. Her breathing was shallow, and tiny beads of sweat stood out on her forehead. Her eyes were slightly unfocused.

"Stupid curfew," she complained, as they packed up their books.

"I was having fun."

"Me too."

Padma pressed her lips to his outside the library and was gone without a further word. Harry hurried to the dungeons, entering the common room just as the bell tolled curfew.

After practising all week, Harry was actually able to cast the Bubblehead Charm. At first his bubble was weak and flimsy. It popped at the slightest breeze. Over the weekend, he improved to the point where he could poke it with a freshly sharpened quill and it would remain. He was nervous about trying to breathe underwater with it.

He'd decided to go with the Bubblehead Charm over the Switching Spell by Monday morning. It was all well and good to give himself gills, but his instinct was still to breathe through his nose and mouth. His throat still rejected the water, even though he didn't need to worry about drowning. His lungs had simply gotten too used to breathing air.

Draco had reported no success in finding a suitable potion in his illicit potions book. Harry was going to cover all of his bases and consult Professor Snape after class.

"For homework," Snape called out over the sudden clamour as the lesson ended and the students hurried up to lunch, "I want three feet on the potential applications of Gnaridurm Sap in a potion."

Once the classroom was clear, Harry and Draco approached the desk at the front of the room. Professor Snape finished his writing with a flourish and wiped the quill dry.

"Eavesdropping, Mister Weasley, is impolite." Snape waved his wand, and the door closed with a bang. As an afterthought, he opened it again. "Ten points from Gryffindor!" It slammed shut again.

"Do you have a few moments, sir?" Harry asked.

"I always have a few moments for any Slytherin. Have you figured out the clue to the second task, yet?"

"Somewhat, sir."

"And do you know what you are going to do?"

"Not exactly," Harry confessed. "There's just so much information in the library. It's impossible to find just one thing without direction, and Madam Pince is insisting that the rules of the tournament prohibit her from helping me. I know I'm going to have to go in to the lake for an hour. What I don't know is how I'm going to breathe. Sirius suggested I try Transfiguration and Switch some gills on to my neck. Remus sent me the incantation for the Bubblehead Charm, but that's N.E.W.T.-level magic. Like you told me, I shouldn't trust in uncertain skills. At least a Switching Spell is fourth year magic, but I can't seem to stop trying to breathe normally."

Professor Snape spared a small smile. "Professor McGonagall has informed me of your increased facility with her subject. She wondered that I was not giving you private lessons. I had to pointedly remind her that I have devoted my life to a subject which does not involve funny words nor foolish wand-waving. But yes, Transfiguration would be a good place to start. Adapting the body to the given environment is an excellent strategy. As it happens, I, too, had thought of growing gills. However, I believe I have a far more elegant solution to the problem at hand." He stood and beckoned them towards the scarred wooden door that led to Snape's private stores, his office.

Reaching up to a high shelf without hesitation, Professor Snape brought down a glass jar with a dark green contents. He handed it to Harry, who wondered at the slimy-looking weedy stuff as he wracked his brain for anything he'd ever learned in Herbology, but coming up dry.

"Do you know what it is, Mister Potter? It is called gillyweed, and it grows in certain parts of the Mediteranean Sea. Chewing this plant will allow you to acquire certain amphibian characteristics, including the ability to breathe underwater. You will be well equipped to complete whatever deed you must."

"I think I have to retrieve something. The message in the egg said I'd have an hour to recover what was taken."

"Quests are a common theme in the tasks. Even the capture of the egg was a quest in its own way. Do not forget to bring your wand."

"Will I still be able to use magic, then?" Harry asked.

"Magic is not so much about words as thoughts, Mister Potter. You have seen me do non-verbal magic not even ten minutes ago. Speaking the spell is less efficient than thinking it. Develop a proficiency with non-verbal spellcasting, and you gain a significant advantage over your enemies."

"And all I have to do is eat this? How much? How does it work?"

"Behold." Snape waved his wand, and an empty cauldron on the bench filled with water. "Mister Malfoy, thank you for volunteering." He opened the glass jar and removed a small tendril. With a sharp steel knife, he sliced off a small bite-sized piece. The remainder he returned to the jar. "Open your mouth."

Draco did as he was told. Snape deposited the small bit of gillyweed on his tongue. Draco swallowed it without chewing. A very strange look came over his face. He grabbed at his throat.

"_Levicorpus!_" Snape said almost lazily.

Draco was yanked in to the air by his ankle. At the direction of Snape's wand, he moved over the cauldron of water and was dunked in head first. Draco's thrashings ceased, and tiny bubbles began to rise up from the gills that had sprouted.

"You see, Mister Potter? One large mouthful should be more than sufficient for your hour time limit. Take extra should the task prove arduous."

Harry accepted the empty bottle Professor Snape handed him. With a silent inquiry before he touched Snape's instruments, Harry quickly separated two good handfuls of the stuff and put the bottle in his pocket. He handed back the jar. He was saved! "Thank you, sir."

Draco's thrashing began again, and Snape lifted him out of the water and set him down on his feet. He stood there with water dripping out of his blonde hair and an irate expression on his face.

"Was that strictly necessary, sir?" Draco asked acerbically. His careful and precise pronunciation betrayed how perturbed he was.

"It was a demonstration, Mister Malfoy, nothing more. And yes, it was necessary."

"My hair is ruined. I won't be fit for public appearance until I spend twenty minutes in front of my mirror."

Now that Harry had his plan of attack, all that remained was to improve his swimming abilities. He had barely a month. Rather than waste time making modifications to the Chamber of Secrets, Harry had hit upon the brilliant idea of going for a morning swim. What better to prepare him for going in the lake than to go in the lake?

That first morning, Harry stared in to the water with deep trepidation. This had sounded all well and good earlier, but now that he was here, with the cold wind whipping at his robes, Harry privately wondered if he was absolutely bleeding insane. It was the middle of winter, and he was contemplating jumping in the _lake_? Surely he needed his head examined. The chill snuck in to his robes, and he shivered.

"Forget this," he declared. He pulled his wand and cast the Self-Warming Charm three times in a row. He was going to regret this no matter what he did, but at least this spell would make sure he didn't die from hypothermia.

To his surprise, Viktor Krum suddenly appeared on the deck of the Durmstrang ship that was moored at the dock which had been magically created just for the guests. "Good morning, Potter."

"Morning, Krum. Fancy a swim?"

"Yes. I find it most invigorating." Krum shrugged off his robes, revealing a very muscular physique. Though on the short side, Krum was downright chiseled. He was thin, but he made it work. Without further ado, he dove off the edge.

Harry shivered again. Crazy. This was abolutely crackers. He dropped his robes to the deck.

The cold pierced all his tender bits with cruel inconsideration for his comfort. He wanted to leap straight back out again. Only the presence of Krum, who would surely tell his fellow Drumstrangers about Harry's weakness, kept him grimly in the water. He resolutely began to swim.

Krum was faster than him, but Harry was motivated to improve himself. So Harry began braving the winter chill and going for a polar bear swim every morning. Though it took multiple applications of the warming charm, Harry eventually had a lot of fun in the process. Krum warmed up, even if the water didn't. He seemed like a decent fellow, but Harry made sure to keep his wand on him at all times. Professor Moody's imperative rang in his ears: Constant vigilance!

Everyone grumbled at Harry about getting up so early. None of them wanted to take the responsibility of watching his back at that ungodly hour. Millie was finally elected by committee, with the reasoning that since Krum was her boyfriend, she had an excuse to be present and might lower his guard.

to be continued...


	20. Under The Water

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Twenty - Under The Water**

The middle of February brought St. Valentine's Day, as it did every year. Breakfast that Tuesday morning was filled with owls bringing valentines. Jenna got one from Warrington the Third; Millie got one from Krum. Draco sent one to Parvati, which also recited poetry in his voice. This last particularly annoyed Weasley, to judge from his demeanour. What was unexpected was the red parchment brought for Pansy.

"Who's your valentine from, Pansy?" Jenna asked as she reached for the strawberry jam.

Pansy unfurled the scroll. Harry, peeking over her shoulder, saw that it was covered with white ink.

"Terry Boot," she said absently as she read. "My, he's quite poetic."

"Boot?" Jenna questioned in surprise.

"Yes, well, ever since Blaise abandoned him at the Yule Ball, I've tried to be nicer to him. He's been slipping me notes in Herbology, you know."

"I know." Harry hadn't known about that. "So what of it?"

"I probably will let him be my valentine. He's quite smart, you know. Top of the year in Charms and Astronomy. If anyone can help me with Charms, it's him."

Tim made a rude snort. Pansy's eyes narrowed.

"Also a proper gentleman," she said a bit louder. "Keeps a respectful tongue in his head when talking to a lady. With one exception," she looked at Harry and winked, "these Slytherin _boys_ are frightfully immature. Maybe a bit of Ravenclaw gravitas is just what I need."

Harry only sent one note, with a spell Elan had given him which caused a dozen roses to pop in to existence. He had sent it to Padma, and her surprise when she opened it had made Harry smile.

Since the new term had started, Harry and Padma had begun sitting together in Arithmancy. They were walking out together, studying together, and it had seemed the thing to do. They were a couple, after all, and it was expected that they would sit together.

Today, Pansy sat down on Harry's left side. She rested her chin on folded hands and directed a Look across the room at Terry. He eventually glanced over, caught her eye, did a double-take, and looked back uncertainly. Pansy very deliberately smiled warmly at him. He glanced briefly to where Tim and Blaise were conversing quietly and back to Pansy. He stood up and shouldered his bag. He crossed the hardwood floor, his trainers squeaking on the polish.

"May I join you?"

"Certainly, Terry," Pansy said, speaking for them all. "Take a seat."

"Where would you like me to take it?"

Pansy giggled. "You're so witty, Terry."

Professor Vector arrived at that point and began the lesson. Harry scribbled notes, but was distracted by the conversation to his left.

"I received your valentine," Pansy whispered.

Terry didn't reply, but he looked suddenly terrified.

"I liked it very much. Wait for me after class."

The rest of their time was spent going over the answers of the pre-holiday examination. Harry had done top of the class, as always.

When class was over, Terry followed Pansy out of the classroom. Most of the other Ravenclaws bustled off to their next class, but he lingered. Padma and Harry quickly pretended to be far too busy to pay attention, but though she had her lips pressed to his, Padma's mind was plainly focused on the situation nearby.

Pansy was smiling at Terry, and her smile was a potent weapon indeed. He looked so utterly nervous, Harry worried he might fall down because his knees were shaking too much.

"I've got to run to Astronomy now," Pansy said. "Maybe I'll see you at lunch?"

"I'd like that," Terry said earnestly.

"Would you like to watch the skies tonight?"

"I would. After dinner, then?"

"After dinner. I'll meet you in the entrance hall."

Pansy leaned forward and kissed Terry lightly on the cheek. She turned and headed towards the Astronomy tower. Terry held up a hand to his cheek in wonder. He watched her until she ducked in to the secret passage out to the battlements.

"When did Pansy get so nice?" he wondered aloud, before following the other Ravenclaws.

"Will the strangeness never cease?" Padma asked Harry.

"I don't know. If it did, we'd have to stop seeing each other."

Padma giggled. "Have fun in Astronomy. I'll see you later."

"Bye."

Pansy and Terry began to study together frequently. They often joined Padma and Harry in the library. The two Slytherins would joke to their friends that they were going out to snog in the Astronomy tower or the trophy room. More often than not, snogging was on the agenda, just not with each other.

Harry took comfort in the shared conspiracy. Pansy was continuing to be just as friendly towards him even despite her estrangement from Draco. It was nice to still have female friends, even if his best mate was a prat sometimes. She'd listened as he talked about his frustrations with Blaise; he'd been her ear as she griped about Draco. Now they jokingly walked about arm and arm in the common room and teased each other about Professor Sinistra catching them snogging.

Jenna was his friend too, but now that she'd taken Blaise's place as Pansy's best friend, she might have gone along with Pansy if she had decided to snub both Draco _and_ Harry. Fortunately they were both reasonable girls and understood it made no sense to be mad at Harry for Draco's insensitivity.

It was peculiar how things could change so quickly. Two weeks was barely enough time to adjust to the new paradigm. Both Harry and Draco were dating outside the house, _ Pansy_ was dating outside the house, Millie was dating a world famous Quidditch star, and Blaise and Tim might as well have been dating for all the time they spent together.

The second task took place on the last Friday of February. Classes were cancelled, which made the students very happy. After breakfast, everyone made their way down to the lakeshore where a line had been drawn in the sand. Each champion was surrounded by a few friends and well-wishers.

Krum stood with only his Headmaster. Where was Millie? She should be supporting her boyfriend, but Harry didn't even see her. He wore a robe casually open in the front. He wore not the trunks Harry had seen on their morning dips but a slinky pair of bikini briefs. The ladies were loving it, to judge from the many pairs of binoculars present.

Fleur's blonde hair was whipping in the breeze. Several of the other Beauxbatons girls were there for support, as well as Roger Davies. Fleur wore a fluffy white dressing gown, and her bare legs poked out from the bottom. Even that much of her was beautiful. Madame Maxime towered over them all.

Diggory had only Professor Sprout and a few of his lads for company. Where was Cho Chang? A bloke's girlfriend ought to be supporting him at a time like this. He looked distressed by her absence, pacing back and forth in the sand. He had on a pair of swim trunks in the Hufflepuff colours of yellow and black. He wore no robe, perhaps trying to acclimate himself to the chill so the lake wasn't such a shock. He had more than a few pairs of binoculars directed his way as well.

Harry squeezed Padma's hand. She'd sat with him at breakfast, and she was here supporting him now. "I'm really glad you're here."

"Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"I hope I was able to help with the Bubblehead Charm."

Harry winked at her. "I've got something better."

"Really? So you were just wasting my time?" she asked archly.

"Time spent with you is never wasted."

Padma smiled. "Flatterer."

Harry was also escorted by Professor Snape and Draco. Neither was saying much, but their very presence was reassuring.

The gillyweed was in his pocket. It was still slippery, slimy, and all-together nasty. He wasn't looking forward to having to eat the stuff.

Harry checked his watch. Two minutes until the start time. He scanned the crowd, but he couldn't find Sirius. There was no time to look for him, either, because Bagman was announcing the start of the task.

"Last night, something was taken from each of our champions, something very precious to them. They will have one hour to enter the lake, face the dangers of the water kingdom, and return to the surface. I repeat, champions, you have one hour!"

Padma smooched him thoroughly. He grinned foolishly at her.

"Good luck, Harry!" his friends screamed to him over the roar of the crowd. He waved cheekily at them.

Bagman let off a firecracker from his wand. As it exploded in the air, the champions ran to the water's edge.

Harry stepped in to the lake, wincing at the chill. He took out the wad of Gillyweed and considered the pulpy mass of green, slimy weed. Without giving himself time to think it through, he shoved it all in his mouth. Chewing rapidly, trying not to notice the taste nor the texture, Harry swallowed. Oh, what he wouldn't give for a drink!

The other champions had vanished from sight. Harry stood alone, hip-deep in freezing water. He wasn't doing anything flashy, so the crowd likely thought he didn't know what to do. There was a bit of snickering, and a well-hated voice called out, "Hey, Potter! Need a snorkel?" Laughter rose from the Gryffindor section.

Harry could barely feel his body anymore. It was cold, so very cold. His toes were numb, and his legs felt like lead weights. Suddenly he couldn't take a breath. He felt as though there were no air to breathe. He was dizzy and light-headed. Stars appeared in front of his eyes.

Harry dove beneath the surface, ignoring the shock as his head went under. He'd never been particularly good at swimming, having learned only the basics of not drowning during his first stay at Malfoy Manor during the summer before second year. He certainly couldn't tell the Backstroke from the Butterfly Crawl, but as cool, soothing oxygen filled his lungs, he held up a hand to his neck in wonder. Gills. He had gills, and his fingers were webbed. Instead of feet and toes, he now had proper flippers. Effortlessly, he zoomed through the water.

The chill had vanished. He felt perfectly comfortable. It was just like a bath. Harry wondered if he'd suddenly become cold-blooded like a snake. _If so, then it's quite fitting. Up Slytherin!_

The bottom of the lake dropped away rather sharply. It really was beautiful down here. Sunlight filtered down, gently illuminating the landscape. Patches of seaweed wivered and waved in the current. Schools of brightly coloured fish moved in perfect sync. Eels slithered through the water, propelled by their sinuous bodies. Bright algae grew on piles of rock. He swam lower, and even the sunlight failed to fully penetrate the murky depths.

Harry kept an eye peeled for trouble. All alone down here in the darkness, without anyone to hear him scream, he made a very tempting target. The Dark wizard who had put his name in the Goblet of Fire might take more direct action, now that he'd seen the Tasks might not finish Harry off. He patted the small pouch in which he'd concealed his wand and the knife that had been a Christmas gift from Sirius. He began to cross a murky patch of seaweed, but the cold hands that grabbed his ankles startled him, despite his vigilance. Grindylows!

He refused to panic. He had learned about grindylows from Professor Lupin, the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher they'd had in three years. Professor Moody had a way about him, but Lupin was no slouch. Harry had even gotten a sneak peak at the grindylow Lupin had procured for their study. He knew what to do: break the fingers. Their grip was very strong, but the fingers were brittle. Fortunately Harry knew a spell to do just that. He drew his wand, trying not to think about how he knew it.

"_Infractus manus!_" he shouted.

The bubbles that came out of his mouth didn't sound like the spell he'd cast, but the force of will he directed in to the spell evidently was enough. A jet of light sent crackles of electricity all over the fingers, and Harry heard the snapping sounds even underwater. He shook off the grip and cast the spell again as another tried to grab at him. Harry swam up a bit, getting above the seaweed. Able to see them coming, able to defend himself swiftly, they didn't trouble him any further.

Finally the weeds ended, and he came to a stone formation with a very large pipe laying on the lake bottom.

"You're rather magnificent, Harry."

Harry nearly jumped out of his own skin. Heart pounding, breathing ragged, he spun around to see Moaning Myrtle floating casually nearby. Her eyes watched him adoringly through her thick, pearly glasses. Her voice wasn't muffled by the water. Harry eyed her warily. Was she here to help or hinder?

"You'll want to try over there," she said, pointing. "The merpeople village is where they are. I couldn't get too close because they chase me away, but I saw the hostages."

Harry could have kissed her. Dead or not, bipolar or not, Myrtle evidently still had some school spirit. She wanted Hogwarts to win and was giving him help. He gave her a thumbs-up to show he appreciated it. She waved back at him.

Alert for more Dark creatures, Harry swam on. He avoided a swirling mass of dark mud by a wide margin. A large rock emerged out of the muddy water ahead. It had paintings of merpeople on it; they were carrying spears and chasing what looked like the giant squid. Harry swam on past the rock, following the mersong.

"...your time's half gone, so tarry not  
Lest what you seek stays here to rot..."

Half gone! He could only hope none of the other champions had advanced so far. He followed the mersong, hurrying past a cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae that loomed suddenly out of the gloom on all sides. Harry sped on, staring around, and soon the dwellings became more numerous; there were gardens of weed around some of them, and he even saw a pet grindylow tied to a stake outside one door.

Merpeople were emerging on all sides now, watching him eagerly, pointing at his webbed hands and gills, talking behind their hands to one another. The merpeople had grayish skin and long, wild, dark green hair. Their eyes were yellow, as were their broken teeth, and they wore thick ropes of pebbles around their necks. They leered at Harry as he swam past; one or two of them emerged from their caves to watch him better, their powerful, silver fish tails beating the water, spears clutched in their hands. Harry sped around a corner and a very strange sight met his eyes.

A whole crowd of merpeople was floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like a mer-version of a village square. A choir of merpeople was singing in the middle, calling the champions toward them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a gigantic merperson hewn from a boulder. Four people were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson.

These must be the people who had been taken. There was a girl who looked no older than eight, whose clouds of silvery hair made Harry feel sure that she was Fleur Delacour's sister. He also recognized Cho Chang. Next to her was Millie. So this was where they'd gotten off to. And further on-

Sirius!

Harry swam closer, ignoring the merpeople circling the centre of the village. A thick rope made of seaweed wrapped around his ankles. He was suspended in the water like a kite in the sky. His godfather's black hair floated around his head as though in a high wind, but in slow motion. His eyes were closed, and he wasn't breathing, though a small steam of fine bubbles came from his mouth.

All thoughts of winning the task fled from Harry's mind. Sirius needed help! His godfather was a vital link to his own parents. He'd served twelve years in Azkaban to avoid drawing danger to Harry. He'd sworn to take up the responsibility for raising Harry and was making good on that pledge. He wouldn't lose Sirius. He _wouldn't_!

He seized the rope, tearing at the knots with webbed fingers. He fumbled clumsily with his pouch, finally managing to get the penknife out. He hacked desperately at the seaweed, terrified that he was going to be too late. After what was probably only a few seconds but felt like ages, the bonds came loose.

Feverishly unwrapping the rope, Harry grabbed Sirius by the collar and began to claw his way back to the surface. He was able to use one webbed hand and both his flippers to great effect, but Sirius was a heavy man, fully grown. He had lost the wasted look he'd had after escaping from prison. His body weighed Harry down, slowing his progress.

He glanced down once and saw that Diggory had reached the clearing. He went immediately to Chang. He touched her face gently with one hand and then cut through the rope with a knife he drew from a sheath on his belt. He grabbed Cho in a lifeguard's carry and began to reach for the surface.

Krum approached swiftly. He had employed human Transfiguration to give himself a shark's head. It let him breathe and swim, but the result was ungainly in the water. He elected to bite through the rope holding Millie. It was slow going, because he wasn't really built for that sort of task. Harry kicked his flippers harder and soon lost sight of them.

Harry noticed his breathing became more ragged as he swam higher and the water became lighter. As soon as their heads broke the surface of the lake, Sirius came awake with a sputtering cough. Harry drew a grateful breath of fresh air and treaded water for a moment, glad to be done with it.

"Harry!" Sirius gasped. "You did it!"

Harry was too tired to answer. They swam to the platform that had been extended out from the beach and climbed out of the frigid lake, gratefully wrapping themselves in warmed towels.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Sirius asked.

"Never better. You?"

"I near pitched a fit at Dumbledore. 'Harry just got used to living at Grimmauld Place,' I told him. 'You can't trick him by making him think I might die. That's cruel and sadistic.' But he assured me that you understood the tournament was non-lethal and everything was only symbolic. Then he put me to sleep."

"He tucked you in?" Harry couldn't resist asking cheekily.

"No, I mean he cast a sleep spell. Couldn't risk my warning you, which I was fully intending to do. I was only thinking about how _I'd_ react if I saw you drowning at the bottom of the lake, and I wouldn't put you through that."

"I think that was maybe the point, though," Harry ventured. "I had lots of motivation to finish first. Though Millie was down there too. She was obviously Krum's victim. I forgot all about her once I saw you."

Sirius hugged him tightly, and Harry tried to put the bad thoughts out of his head. His godfather was safe. That was all that mattered.

The hands of a giant clock counted down to one hour and a bell tolled one ring.

Diggory and Cho came to the surface. She opened her eyes and began to cry when she saw him. She threw her arms around him and they nearly went under. He kissed her properly, then they swam for the platform.

Krum and Millie surfaced a few minutes later. She looked completely shocked to see him.

Runners from the first aid tent brought doses of Pepper-Up Potion for champions and hostages alike. Harry gratefully guzzled the spicy concoction and felt healing warmth fill him from foot to crown. Steam began to shoot out of his ears.

"Attention please!" Bagman's voice boomed out over the crowd. "The judges have tallied their scores. In first place, finishing within the time limit, we award fifty points to Harry Potter!"

The crowd burst in to applause and cheering. "Mister Potter used gillyweed to great effect! The other Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory, rescued his hostage showing great command of the Bubblehead Charm, but returned to the surface one minute after the expiration of the time limit. He receives forty-five points."

More applause rang out, even more enthusiastic for the "true" Hogwarts champion.

"The Durmstrang champion, Viktor Krum, used an incomplete form of human Transfiguration and brought his hostage back quite a few minutes after the expiration of the time limit, and for third place he gets forty points."

Polite applause.

"Fleur Delacour, the champion from Beauxbatons, encountered difficulties during the challenge and was forced to withdraw. For her progress and demonstrated skill with the Bubblehead Charm, she is awarded twenty-five points."

It was almost pitiful.

"She didn't finish?" Harry asked. "What'd she run in to, the giant squid?"

"Grindylows," Draco informed him. "They swarmed her, and she couldn't get away."

"That's it? Just break their fingers. Remus taught us that."

"Evidently they need a better teacher at Beauxbatons."

Fleur Delacour suddenly screamed out, "Gabrielle!" and flung her blankets aside. She dove back in to the freezing water, swimming quickly to where the younger girl was coughing and choking. Gabrielle frantically latched on to Fleur, sending them both under. They bobbed back up, and Fleur began to swim back to the dock. She hurriedly climbed the ladder and carried her little sister to the first aid station where Madam Pomfrey was waiting with a dose of Pepper-Up.

The merfolk had poked their heads above water. Dumbledore leaned down and casually stuck his head under the water. Bubbles rose as he conducted a conversation with the chief. He stood back up and dried himself with a wave of his wand.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," continued Bagman. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."

Madam Pomfrey began hustling them all up towards the castle to get in to dry clothes at that point. Harry allowed himself to be ushered. Sirius walked next to him, not saying a word, but laying a hand on Harry's shoulder. They parted ways with a hug in the entrance hall. Harry went to the dungeons to change; Sirius climbed up to the headmaster's office.

At lunch, Harry was called upon to describe his journey beneath the lake in detail. It was amazing he got anything in to his stomach as he told about smashing the fingers of the grindylows, how Myrtle had helped him out, and how fierce the merpeople had seemed.

"Were you afraid?" Padma asked, joining them.

"Yeah, I was afraid. I was scared if I wasn't quick enough or smart enough, I'd lose my godfather. I would have flattened anything that came along."

Padma laid her head on his shoulder.

"You did well," Draco said. "Still in first place. I wonder who's planning the party."

After lunch, the Slytherins got started on their weekend. It was Friday afternoon, and nobody could quite bear to face homework when there was celebrating to do. The party was raucous. The house was a little more reserved with a Ravenclaw present, but not much.

Padma didn't leave his side. She had just gone along with the Slytherins after dinner without a word of discussion. It wasn't until they were ensconced in the common room that anyone really even noticed. There was no objection, and the celebration began.

Harry described the grindylows over and over again to the awestruck first, second, and third years. "The trick is to break the fingers. Their grip is very strong, but the fingers are brittle. There's even a spell to do it: _Infractus manus!_"

Blaise made a rude sort of coughing noise. "That's a horrible spell. It's probably Dark magic. Only a brute would use it."

"It worked brilliantly. I think it must have been designed to fight grindylows. They didn't want any part of me."

"What then?"

"Well, I kept going, and Moaning Myrtle was hanging out by this large pipe. She pointed me towards the merpeople village, and that's where I found the hostages tied up."

"I think that's so sweet, Millie," Jenna said. "Krum would miss you the most? I'm moved to tears."

"Stuff it, Jenna," Millie protested, trying not to turn red.

"Ooh, she's _blushing_," Jenna needled, giggling wickedly. "Are you that good of a snog, then? Surely you're not studying all the time."

"It's not just snogging," Millie said. "He invited me to Bulgaria this summer."

"Really?" Pansy sounded flabbergasted.

"I know. Oh it's all awful. He's treating me like a girl."

"You are a girl, Millie."

"I know. It sucks. It's all so confusing."

"But it's so romantic," Laine exclaimed, dramatically clasping her hands over her heart. "I'd love a tall, dark, and handsome Quidditch star to sweep me off _my_ feet."

"Someday, Laine," encouraged Ginny. "Someday. Maybe it'll be Arcen."

Millie's little brother made an indelicate gagging noise. "It's revolting," he declared. "Millie's got it exactly right."

"Aww, that's so sweet," Jenna gushed. "Sticking up for his big sister! How cute!" She ruffled his hair.

Arcen began turning red. "Quit it! Knock it off!"

Harry didn't last as long as the party did. Worn out from his adventures under the lake, he wanted to seek his bed right after dinner. He placed his glasses on the nightstand and gratefully pulled the sheets up to his chin. He was asleep before he had time to wonder how soon sleep would come. Even without him, Slytherin house partied late in to the night.

to be continued...


	21. A Brief Interlude for Lessons

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Twenty-One - A Brief Interlude for Lessons**

Without any tasks to worry about for awhile, Harry settled back in to the routine of classes. He paid dutiful attention in lecture, he worked hard on his homework, and he did his best to learn everything put in front of him. He didn't devote a lot of extra time to discovering new and exotic magics. He needed a break.

Relaxation was on the menu a week later when another Hogsmeade weekend was scheduled. Moony was going to be in town, so Sirius had said. It would be good to see him. Harry planned to drag him to the Three Broomsticks and make him tell old stories over butterbeer.

Harry waited for Jenna and Pansy to emerge from the dorm. Draco had made plans to eat breakfast with Parvati and went up to the Great Hall early. Crabbe and Goyle came out after a bit and headed up as well. Tim ignored Harry's greeting and slouched in a chair in the corner. When Blaise emerged, she glanced in his direction before approaching Harry's couch. She didn't sit, but stood a few feet away.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"Sleep well?"

"Not bad. You?"

"Well, thanks. Are you going to breakfast?"

"I was just waiting for Jenna and Pansy. Are they coming along?"

"They were still styling their hair. They take absolutely forever. They've quite turned in to proper frippets. I don't see the point of all that time in front of the mirror."

Blaise didn't need to spend ages making herself look beautiful. She looked good no matter what she'd been doing. It just didn't matter. But Harry wasn't about to say that to her.

"Pansy's nervous about seeing Terry today. It's their first real date."

"I'm glad Pansy has found a nice boy like Terry. He was very courteous to me at the Yule Ball."

"So why'd you leave him there?"

Blaise didn't answer. "I shouldn't have," she said instead. "I shouldn't have even agreed to go with him."

Harry had nothing to say that wouldn't take the conversation back to the uncomfortable subject of his failed relationship with Blaise. "I don't think he's holding a grudge."

"I'm glad."

There was silence for several moments. Harry was just about to say he'd see Blaise at breakfast when she suddenly asked, "What's the story with Michelle Holt? You took her to the Yule Ball, and now she's a complete pariah."

"I have nothing to do with it," Harry said truthfully. "I owed her a favour, so I took her to the ball. Apparently other people feel she needs to be put in her place."

"Well they're certainly doing that," Blaise huffed. "They're always engaged in floccinaucinihilipilification of anyone who doesn't flatter and faun and chap her lips on Pansy's bum."

"In what?" Harry's head was spinning from all the syllables tumbling from her lips. "Never mind. I really don't want to know."

"I think it's scummy. They've been doing it to me too, but I don't care."

"Really?" Harry was surprised. He knew there were many conversations he'd had with Pansy about how to handle Blaise, but he hadn't realized they'd been ruining her reputation.

"Not so bad as her, but yes."

"I'm sorry." He truly was. It wasn't right to drive her out of the group, but she'd more or less done it to herself. Why couldn't she just keep her crush to herself?

Blaise smiled. "Thank you, Harry. You really are a nice boy."

Oh no, had he crossed his signals?

Before Harry could cautiously gauge how severe his slip-up had been, Pansy and Jenna made an appearance and made a beeline for Harry. Their time in front of the mirror had been worth it. Pansy's black hair was all wavy, and the light make-up tones she'd chosen really made her look pretty when she smiled. Jenna had put on a white sweater and blue slacks under a blue robe, touching off her winter-wishful look with a shimmer of snowflakes on her cheeks.

"Blaise," Pansy said in a cheery tone. "Not off to Hogsmeade yet?"

"No, just catching up with Harry a bit. He was telling me about your date with Terry today."

Pansy smiled in a satisfied way. "Shouldn't have let him get away from you, Blaise."

"I have no chance of holding his interest when such a lovely termagant as yourself is on the prowl."

"Do you enjoy being a lexiphane, Blaise?" Jenna asked cheekily.

Blaise's eyes narrowed. She obviously knew what that word meant. Harry had no clue.

"Well, see you at breakfast, then."

She flounced off. Pansy and Jenna watched her go.

"Jenna, how did you accomplish that? I thought I'd have to talk down to her for at least five minutes to get her to leave."

"She just can't handle being called pretentious." Jenna looked quite pleased with herself.

"Is that what that means?" Harry asked.

"Yes. It's a good word. Blaise isn't the only one who can speak with more than two syllables."

"Shall we head up?"

Harry glanced over at the Gryffindor table as he stepped through the double doors in to the Great Hall. Weasley was on his feet and was now in a heated discussion with Draco. Parvati was standing at his side and trying to defuse the situation, but Weasley was working himself in to a frenzy.

Should he get involved? Draco could probably take care of himself. It _was_ in front of the whole school, so Weasley might not be dumb enough to escalate past words. Harry moved towards the Gryffindor table anyway. His best mate was all alone.

"Do I really have to see you and listen to you while I'm trying to eat? I'm likely to lose my appetite." Weasley was not shouting, but his tone was full of disgust.

"Good thing you have a spare," Parvati interjected. "You could stand to skip a meal. You won't fall over and die."

"I'm a growing boy," Weasley defended.

"You're a boy all right," Draco said, cracking a smirk. "Parvati and I are headed to Hogsmeade later. Where's your girl, Weasley? Not able to follow up from the Yule Ball, eh?"

Weasley glared contemptuously at Draco. "Oi, Chrissy?"

The pretty brunette who had been Weasley's date to the Yule Ball was sitting a few seats away. "Yeah?"

"Wanna go to Hogsmeade with me?"

"All right, then."

Weasley turned back to the two Slytherins with a wide smirk on his face. "Nothing to it, Malfoy."

"You are having quite a spot of good luck, aren't you?" Draco said. "I'll have to ruin that for you."

"I told you once before, Malfoy; any place, any time. Did you want to duel or race?"

"I might like to match my Nimbus with your Cleansweep." Draco's drawl was in full force.

"Feeling like suffering another humiliating defeat? I did beat you in the race, after all."

"There's no giant squids on the Quidditch pitch."

"You want another match?"

"The time we played Quidditch, it was never finished, was it?"

"This is very true."

"Maybe. I'll float it by the lads and see what they say. You know you'll lose though. Harry will catch the Snitch hours before you manage to get up sixteen goals on us."

"I'm sure Potter is very impressive. We're all quite taken with his performance in the tournament. That was awfully sweet with your godfather in the lake, Potter."

Harry's blood ran cold. "Don't you talk about Sirius," he warned.

"Why not? It's all over the paper how much that Dark traitor means to you."

Weasley held out his hand, and Finnigan gave him a copy of the Daily Prophet.

The first thing Harry noticed was the picture. It was from the moments right after the second task. Harry and Sirius were clinging to each other.

**AN ORPHAN'S TERROR**

by Rita Skeeter

Harry Potter was only one tender year old when he tragically lost his parents at the murderous hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. As a baby, he was given over to his mother's sister to be raised on the word of Albus Dumbledore, a close friend to the Potters. But brave Harry's aunt and her family were Muggles of the worst sort, and Harry nobly suffered ten years of neglect, mistreatment, and abuse at their hands. Even though he gained a wand when starting school and was now empowered to defend himself, the boy who freed all of Britain from the shadow of fear was still forced to return to this mean gaol during the holiday. Is that supposed to be funny? All of that came to an end last June when Sirius Black, exonerated of his crimes, invoked his responsibilities as Harry's godfather and liberated him from his exile.

Black, a romantically notorious wizard fifteen years ago, has found a new sense of gravitas. When mischief came to Hogwarts and landed his godson in the Triwizard Tournament, he set aside his affairs in London and relocated to a small, cramped room in the Hogs Head Inn. They meet every Hogsmeade weekend. The strategy sessions must surely be fascinating to witness. Harry told this reporter that he is incapable of adequately expressing his gratitude for the blessings his godfather has given him.

Which is why it is all the more terrible that all of Harry's recent good fortune was threatened last Friday during the second task. Each champion was given one hour to retrieve from the bottom of the lake the person they most cared about. In typical fashion for the two other boys, that was their girlfriends. For Fleur Delamorte, it was her little sister. For Harry? It's so obvious. It goes beyond the pale that one would threaten a boy who had lost everything with the loss of all he had gained. The tasks are supposed to be difficult, but must they be traumatizing? It is fortunate that Harry is a capable young wizard, for he finished in first place. But then, he certainly had good motivation.

None of the other champions finished within the time limit.

"Were you worried about him, Potter? Did you think he was going to drown?" Weasley's voice was syrupy sweet and filled with all kinds of insincerity.

"Shut up, Weasley."

"Were you scared, Potter? Scared like a little baby? 'I'm Harry Potter, and I'm a widdle baby, and I didn't realize that Dumbledore would never ever ever let an innocent get hurt in the task!'"

"Stuff yourself, Weasley!" Harry's adrenaline was pumping full force. He wasn't even thinking about drawing his wand. He just wanted to hit Weasley in the face as hard as he could.

"Wah! I'm just a stupid little baby Potter, and I was scared!"

Harry lost his control. He launched himself at Weasley, who fell back against the bench. Draco grabbed Harry and pulled him away.

"No fighting in the Great Hall. That's just asking for detention."

"I'm going to hurt him!"

"He's not worth it right now. We'll get him. Later. With a plan. And magic. Trust me."

Harry took a shuddering breath and turned on his heel. He took it in great strides to the double doors out to the entrance hall. Belatedly, he realized he'd never gone to the Ravenclaw table to pick up Padma. Even though he was going to be spending most of the day with Sirius and Remus, they'd agreed to walk to the village together. Rather, she'd finally told him that she felt hurt when he rushed out of the Great Hall without her on other weekends. She was his girlfriend, she'd said quite primly, and it was beginning to be noticed.

There was nothing for it but to sit and wait for her to finish breakfast. He tried to ignore his rumbling stomach. He had made a rather dramatic exit. He wasn't about to make himself look even dumber by going back in.

Harry reached in to his pocket and pulled out a practice Snitch. It had been a Christmas present from Bletchley, accompanied by a note with orders to not get rusty. He tapped it with his wand, and wings emerged from the golden ball. The wings began to beat, and the Snitch lifted off of his palm. It began to zip around Harry's head, restricted to near-range.

With a lightning-quick motion, Harry snatched the Snitch from the air. He let it go and snagged it again quickly. He released it once more and swore as he missed the grab. The golden ball danced in front of his face, and it eluded him again as he tried to catch it. He pushed his irritation aside to focus on his technique.

He studied the Snitch as it fluttered around. He made a calculated movement and watched as it darted left. He didn't make a grab for it directly, but he was studying the responses it made. It reacted to him and his motions. If he could understand how it did that, he would be a better Seeker.

Harry continued to practise until he caught sight of Padma out of the corner of his eye. She was leaning against the marble pillar of the staircase, just watching him. She wore a light cloak of deep blue inlaid with bronze over intricately patterned robes. It was a night scene, and shooting stars criss-crossed the midnight sky of her chest. She had woven white ribbons in to her hair. The way her smile lit up her eyes made Harry's heart jump in to his throat. How had he managed to persuade this beautiful creature that he wasn't a downright putz? Surely it would be today that his careless tongue or clumsy body betrayed him.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah. Nice moves."

"Just a little practise."

The early March weather was still cold, but the snow was mostly gone from the grounds. Harry and Padma held hands. When they reached the outskirts of town, Harry needed to turn off the main path. The Hog's Head Inn was set somewhat apart from the rest of the village.

"I'll see you later at the Three Broomsticks?"

"Yes. I don't know when."

"Then I'll wait for you. Or you'll wait for me."

"Until then."

"Bye."

They parted ways with a lingering kiss. His head spinning, a foolish grin on his face, Harry headed towards the Hog's Head.

Remus and Sirius were sitting in a booth. A pile of empty dishes cluttered the table, and the two men were lingering over a pot of tea.

"Harry!" Remus said. His former professor looked in good health. His face wasn't so thin anymore. There were no dark circles under his eyes. The grey in his hair did seem a little more prominent, and his moustache was getting bushy. It looked like he had a small rodent glued to his upper lip.

"Remus! Good to see you!" Harry didn't care about out-of-control facial hair. He was just glad that Remus seemed to be doing well.

"Sirius has been keeping me current on the tournament. You've done extremely well for yourself. You're a credit to Marauder trickery and Slytherin cunning."

"Thanks. I don't want to think about how desperate I'd be if I didn't have you and Sirius to help me. Snape's been tally too."

"Severus is a very knowledgeable wizard," Remus said with a nod. "You are fortunate to have his help."

"I think he's making it a point to one-up your advice," Harry confessed. Snape always had a little sneer in his voice when Harry told him of the plans Sirius and Remus had cooked up. He would disparage whatever they said and offer an elegant solution, one that had style.

"Fine by me," Sirius said bluntly. "If it keeps you safer, he can one-up me all day. He can't, of course, but he's welcome to try."

"He's never offered me a place to live," Harry replied. "That one-ups anything. He's not teaching me cool magic either. Well, he is. Not _as_ cool, of course, but-"

"I understand. Shall we meander?" Sirius was smiling indulgently.

"Not yet. I missed breakfast."

"Why? Sleep through the alarm?"

"No, it's stupid. I don't really want to admit how stupid I was being."

"Fine, fine. I'll be glad to put down another plate myself."

Harry wolfed down an omlette with everything in it and washed it back with a glass of pumpkin juice. Sirius and Remus each ordered a toasted bagel with jam.

The path out of town to the Shrieking Shack was muddy. They had to walk on the very edge to avoid losing shoes to the sucking muck. The old house was dilapidated. Paint was peeling off the siding, and the windows were all boarded up. The three men proceded single-file behind the building.

They sat down cross-legged. Harry closed his eyes. He turned his thoughts inward. He tried not to let anything cross his mind. He focused on his breathing. In. Out. Nose. Mouth.

Suddenly, unbidden, an alien sense flooded his mind.

It was gone.

He tried not to think about it, not to analyse it. He continued to keep his mind clear.

Everything was dark. He was in a dirt hole. Musky scent spiked sharply in his nose. The sound of breathing was all around him. He could barely see anything, which was more than he should have been able to. The world looked different through the eyes of- of- whatever creature he'd become.

The one next to him suddenly perked her head up sharply. How he knew it was a female, Harry couldn't say. Her body was slender, with an elongated head and a pointed snout and short ears. She was about a foot and a half from head to tail. She chattered at him, and Harry knew she sensed him. He didn't know how to answer. He opened his mouth and-

Harry crashed back to his own body with the speed of a Quidditch accident. His head ached horribly. But he'd done it! Padfoot had told him he had an animal in his soul, and he'd been right!

"Well done, Harry!" Padfoot shouted. He and Moony capered around in a gleefully mad dance.

Harry gulped deep breaths. Sweat stood out in beads on his forehead. "What am I? Did you see me?"

"You're a mammal. About two foot long, really slender body and head. Brown fur. I'm not entirely familiar with the species. I've seen it before, but I can't remember what it's called."

"A weasel?" Harry asked incredulously. Please, Merlin, no!

"No, I don't think so. Maybe a ferret."

"That's no good either! I want to be something cool!"

"Enough of that," Padfoot said brusquely. "I heard enough whinging from Peter when he was a rat. It could be worse."

"Yeah, I know. But still. I thought I was going to be a bird of some kind. What with the wings and the feet and all."

"That was just to train your body to do the transformation. Not everyone gets to be cute and cuddly like me," Padfoot said outrageously, flashing in to his dog form. He rolled over on his back and kicked his paws endearingly.

"You're too much," Harry choked, laughing himself breathless.

"Well done, Harry, really good job." Moony looked fit to burst himself. "You've done it once. Now you just need to practise. Soon you'll be able to do it in the blink of an eye. Soon you'll be able to hold it as long as you want."

"Does it stop hurting?"

"Yes." Sirius was back to being a human. "After awhile, you won't even notice that moment of pain. It'll become as routine as a morning piss."

"Let's try again."

"You've done enough for today," Sirius disagreed. "You don't want to strain yourself. It would be very awkward to explain to Madam Pomfrey how you managed to exhaust your magic. Besides, it's past time for lunch."

Harry glanced at his watch and noted with a start that nearly three hours had passed. "I am hungry."

"Keep at it. You've achieved your form. Now it's just a matter of fine-tuning it."

"I'll keep working every day." Harry knew that to be a slight exaggeration, but he would try to put in a few minutes at least. It was safe enough for him to wander the dungeons on his own, and the tapestry room afforded him a modicum of privacy close to the common room. When he had more time, there was the Chamber of Secrets. His Animagus lessons were secret, so it was very fitting.

Lunch in the Three Broomsticks went well. Most of Harry's friends came by to say hello, and everyone glad to see Professor Lupin again. He told them about the tedious mundanity of working at a Muggle bookshop.

"I've been house-sitting Grimmauld Place while Sirius is staying in Hogsmeade."

"Has Kreacher been behaving himself?"

"Ever since you had that talk with him, he's been polite. He still hates me, but he fulfills his duties. I do have to keep an eye out for the silver flatware though."

"I think I need to have another conversation with him."

Harry had no desire at all to visit any of the shops in the village. There was no place more important than sitting at this table with his father's two best friends. He loved hearing old stories and hearing firsthand about pranks that were still talked about to this day. They stayed quite late, just chatting away the hours.

It was approaching time for dinner, and the only ones who remained were Draco, Padma, and Parvati. Harry was giving it his all, but he was blinking his eyes for longer and longer. When his head started nodding forward, he knew it was time to leave or end up with his face in his plate. Trying not to yawn through his goodbyes, Harry bundled himself against the chill of the evening and began the slow walk back to the castle.

Sirius and Remus escorted them as far as the gates. Draco and Parvati went on ahead to have a private snog before parting ways. Harry shook hands manfully with Remus and hugged his godfather tightly.

"We'll see you at Easter, okay?" Sirius whispered.

"Count on it."

After walking Padma up to Ravenclaw tower and going dizzy with her kisses, Harry lounged around the Slytherin common room. He didn't feel quite so groggy now that he'd had a breath of fresh air, a brisk walk, and a snog. His lethargy soon returned in front of the fireplace, and he forced himself to go to bed before he fell asleep on the couch.

Harry got a good night's sleep and woke up early on Sunday morning. Declining to lay in, he took his books out to the common room and did some work on his Potions essay. His friends eventually rose in ones and twos.

After breakfast came more studying. After lunch he snuck off to the Chamber of Secrets. With a simple recitation of the Featherfall Charm, he floated gently down the huge pipe to the damp cavern. Though Harry had cleaned up the scum and algae, he hadn't managed to stop up the holes in the rock where the moisture was seeping in. At least the water was clean.

Harry opened the magnificent door with a hissed word of Parseltongue. He strode down the length of the chamber and sat in the circle of filtered light beneath the statue of Slytherin. He ignored the hardness of the stone floor under him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the alien consciousness he'd experienced yesterday.

The musk was back in his nose. The chattering was back in his ears. In the very dim light, he saw the others. He stood on all four feet and ambled up the tunnel. Though it wasn't more than a foot wide, it was more than adequate for him. Working with four paws and a tail wasn't easy, but he managed. On the surface, he got a sniff of dry air. The world was filled with all manner of new and fascinating scents.

He had five toes on each paw. Each toe was tipped with a long, sharp claw. His tail, like the rest of him, was covered in short brown fur. He rocked back on his hind feet. He was able to perch quite comfortably. He explored his face with his paws. Small eyes and sharp teeth. So he was a meat-eater, a predator.

Harry blinked and crashed back to the Chamber of Secrets with a gasp of pain. He'd done it! He'd done it again! He'd made contact. Presumably he'd transformed as well. Now he just needed to know how to take the form while aware of the world, not whatever world his animal was in.

He ached all over. He lay back and unfolded his cramping legs. He stretched luxuriously, right there on the floor. He looked up, wondering where the light was filtering down from.

A quick check of his watch revealed that it was nearly tea time. The meditations really mucked with his sense of time. He hurried back up to the castle proper. Worn out from his efforts at Transfiguration, Harry retired to his room after tea. Yawning hugely, he laid down on the bed. Perhaps a nap before dinner. Yes, that would be just the ticket.

The world slipped away incredibly fast. Hours passed, and the next thing Harry knew, it was morning. He wanted to throw the alarm clock across the room.

It was far too early for classes, he thought, fumbling for his glasses. He rolled grudgingly out of bed. Yawning hugely, he picked up his bath things and headed for the shower.

Mondays were nice days. He got to see Padma in Arithmancy, and then she was on his mind all day until he got to see her in double Herbology. Even though everyone knew they were seeing each other, it was still fun to sneak glances across the greenhouse. But the long established groups were disrupted when Terry stopped Pansy at the door of the greenhouse she was about to enter with Harry, Draco, and Jenna.

"Would you like to work together today?"

"Love to," answered Pansy, blushing slightly and moving away from the other Slytherins to take his arm.

"Are we intermingling now?" queried Mandy who had been walking in with Terry. "In that case, can Goyle and I team up with you?"

"Sure," agreed Terry.

Goyle, who was close behind the group with Crabbe, looked a bit surprised at Mandy's forwardness, but smiled and moved over to a table with the other three.

Harry caught Padma's eye and gestured to the table he usually worked at. Jenna and Draco joined them. Millie and Crabbe joined up with Blaise and Tim, leaving the remaining Ravenclaws to sort themselves out.

The task that day was to prune the Flutterby bushes. Each looked like a quivering mass of butterflies attached to a bunch of twigs. There were bushes in all sorts of colors and patterns.

"Flutterby wings are the key ingredient in many Calming Draughts," lectured Professor Sprout as she plunked down several pots and a large glass jar onto each table. "Make sure you trim just below the joints of the wings on each twig, and don't damage them! Broken wings will render them ineffective and if used in a potion will only add to the nerves the patient is already feeling. Place the trimmings into these jars so they don't fly away."

"It seems a shame to trim them off," commented Padma. "They're so pretty."

"Pretty quick, you mean!" exclaimed Draco after trimming off a pair of wings that immediately sensed freedom and started to fly toward the greenhouse window.

"Quick, but not too quick for me," added Harry catching it as if it were a fragile snitch, and dropping it into the jar.

The boys quickly started a contest to see who could catch more Flutterby wings while Padma and Jenna trimmed the bushes.

At the end of class Harry and Padma walked up to the school together.

"I've got something for you," announced Harry, grinning at her.

"Oh really?" she asked.

"Yes."

With a bit of a flourish, Harry presented Padma with a twig with several pairs of bright blue Flutterby wings still attached.

"You thought they were so pretty, I had to sneak one for you."

"Oh, Harry! It's beautiful. You're so sweet."

"I do what I can."

Padma tucked the twig into her hair. The contrast of her shining dark tresses and the blue of the fluttering wings was very nice, thought Harry.

They walked to the main stairs, and Padma turned to Harry.

"Thank you. I'll see you at dinner."

She gave Harry a quick but thorough kiss and headed up to the stairs to Ravenclaw tower. Harry grinned and headed down to the dungeons.

Harry was slightly distracted through dinner that evening and in all of his lessons on Tuesday. It was hard to think about classwork when he just wanted to perfect his animal form. He wondered if he could justify skivving off and practising down in the Chamber.

But he made sure to pay the closest of attention in double Transfiguration on Tuesday. Despite the increasing difficulty of the subject, Harry had no problems doing any task assigned to him. His essays were miserable, but whenever Professor McGonagall called on him to perform in class, he was able to do it perfectly on the first try. They'd spent months on Cross-Species Switches and soon would be moving on. Old McGonagall had hinted at an evaluation soon, and only half of the Slytherins could even do it.

"Like this," Harry said to Jenna, correcting her grip slightly. "Try it now."

"Thanks."

"Pansy, have you got it?"

"I think so."

Harry watched her wand movements. "Make the left sweep a little shorter and only tap once."

"How do you understand all this, Harry? You and Terry, I swear."

"It's a gift," Harry said sassily. "You don't think I actually know what I'm doing, do you?"

But he did know what he was doing in Potions. Working with Draco was one of the smartest things he could have done. He wasn't forever being distracted by Blaise flipping her hair around or the enticing scents of her perfume like last year. He was really able to focus on the lessons, and he found his understanding of potion-making deepening.

Wednesday ended with double Potions, which Harry always enjoyed because they actually got to brew. After a brief review of the instructions, Professor Snape set them to work. Harry and Draco quickly began preparing the ingredients.

"I don't think we have enough powdered toad skin," Harry noted. "Shouldn't this be thicker?"

Draco was counting his stirrings under his breath. When he reached thirty, he set the glass rod on the edge of the cauldron. He shook his head. "It's just about right. If it still looks like this in ten minutes, we'll have to correct it, but let's wait and see."

"Okay." Harry checked the next step of the instructions again. "So do you really want to put together a game of Quidditch with Weasley?"

"I do. You haven't got a task to worry about. I need to get back on a broom again or I'll mad. Plus there's the fact that we never finished that match from the beginning of last year. It all makes perfect sense."

Harry began to finely slice a dandelion stem. "He's got that Model Eleven now. It'll actually be more of a contest. I think I could enjoy it."

"Maybe you could ask Krum if he wanted to play on our team."

Play Quidditch with Viktor Krum? Okay. "I wonder how badly he'd react."

"Let's ask him." Draco had a wicked look on his face. "We've got to let this bubble for another nine minutes."

Harry leaned across the aisle and peered in to Weasley's cauldron. The contents did not look to be going all that well. It was barely boiling, and it had yet to turn green.

"You might want to give that a few counter-clockwise stirs, Weasley," Harry offered helpfully.

"Piss off, Potter." Weasley was searching for something in the text, moving his index finger down the page.

"No, really. It'll help. Here-" Harry picked up the glass rod and stuck it in Weasley's cauldron. He precisely made two quick rotations, and the solution instantly began to boil.

"Huh?" Weasley seemed perplexed. "How'd you do that?"

"You overstirred it. Add a bit of toad skin, too."

"What do you want, Potter?"

"Were you serious about having that rematch?"

"You know I was. Why? Trying to chicken out?"

"Hardly," Harry scoffed. "Just making sure you're up to it. But I know you won't be able to put together enough proper players, so I've had another idea."

"I'm listening."

"We learned a new sport over the summer. It's called Quodpot, and you can have any number of players on a team. We can't furnish the eleven of standard play, but surely five or six Gryffindors could be found."

"I know of three right away," Weasley retorted. "Quodpot, eh? I've heard about it. Can't say I think it'll compare to Quidditch, but I'll give it a go."

"Good. Find out who's interested in Gryffindor. I'll ask around in Slytherin, and we'll talk later."

The whole Quidditch team was intrigued by the idea of playing a round of Quodpot with Gryffindor. That was seven people right there. Add in Draco, Millie, Tim the pillock, Arcen Bulstrode, Lucas Slater, Jeremiah Goodwinter, and Terence Higgs, and Slytherin could field fourteen players easily.

Word of the challenge got around on the ever efficient Hogwarts grapevine. By the time double Charms rolled around on Thursday afternoon, it was all anyone could talk about. Everyone was thirsty for details, but nobody knew anything for sure, so rumours flew fast and furious.

As Professor Flitwick lectured on Banishing Charms, Harry began prioritizing his list. Depending on how many players Weasley actually managed to round up, he might have to make some hard decisions. He had to put the list away, though, when they began practising the charm by attempting to send soft cushions across the room.

The list preoccupied him all through the evening as rumours continued to fly about who was signing up for Gryffindor. The Weasley twins were a given, Harry assumed. They'd been banned from the Interhouse Quidditch Cup, but they were allowed to play in pick-up games. The three Chasers were also a given. Add in Weasley himself, Thomas, Finnigan, and that made eight all but confirmed. Harry went to sleep that night feeling very confident in Slytherin's prospects.

Friday was a chance to sleep in. Neither he nor Draco was taking Care of Magical Creatures, and he was glad for that. Millie, Crabbe, and Goyle had plenty of horror stories to share. Old Professor Kettleburn had retired to spend some quality time with his remaining limbs, and Hagrid had a vastly underdeveloped sense of danger as it regarded towering awful beasties with a thirst for blood. Today though marked a pleasant surprise. When they met back up in the greenhouses, Millie told them all about nifflers.

"It was actually a good lesson, wouldn't you know? He had a whole bunch of these ugly cats. They're furry with big ears. They look like they got smashed in the face. We each got one and had to walk it around the yard so they could dig up leprechaun gold."

"Weasley must have tried to slip some of it in his pockets, right?" Draco asked.

"Professor Hagrid told us up front that it wouldn't last. Doesn't mean he didn't try. I liked them. Nifflers, I mean. They seem pretty smart, and apparently they're good at sniffing out suspicious people."

"Maybe we could borrow one and figure out who put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire," Draco speculated.

They had spent a lot of time trying to solve the mysteries of the tasks and none at all on tracking down who the bad guy was. Harry hadn't heard anything further from Professor Snape or from the headmaster. He hoped they would be able to figure it out before he met with some messy accident.

After Herbology, Harry walked back to the castle hand-in-hand with Padma. She nudged him and wordlessly tilted her head. Harry followed her eyes and saw Pansy and Terry, who had stopped walking and now stood on the dirt path with their lips touching.

"Way to go, Pansy," Harry said quietly.

"I'm happy for him," Padma agreed. "He was really crushed about Blaise, you know. He told me while we were dancing that night."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I don't agree with Pansy on everything, but I think she'll be good for him."

"Like you're good for me?" Harry couldn't resist interjecting.

"Yes, like that."

They parted ways in the entrance hall, and all the Slytherins headed up, while the Ravenclaws went down.

Professor Moody was waiting for them as they filed in to the Defence classroom. They were always on their guard, for he had ambushed the seventh years again upon the return from holiday. He had also ambushed the sixth years. While Harry didn't think Moody would do them permanent harm, he was crazy enough to make them very uncomfortable.

"Sometimes you can't avoid being hit by a spell. Either your enemy is too quick with his casting or you're not nimble enough to dodge. For that reason, wizards have developed magical shields. A very simple shield is all you need some times. There's no need to expend a lot of energy just to block one curse before you go back on the offensive. Energy you waste early in combat is energy you can't draw on later to save your arse. You should already know this spell, but if you don't, the incatation is _aegis vocare_."

"_Aegis vocare._"

"Good. You all seem to know it. The fourth year Gryffindors certainly didn't. They picked it up readily enough, so let's see how you do. Malfoy! Front and centre!"

Draco stood at the front of the class. He bowed rakishly to Moody and assumed a dueling stance.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

"_Aegis vocare!_" A faint sheen of white light appeared around Draco. Moody's spell deflected up in to the ceiling.

"Good! Five points to Slytherin! Now, this spell is only good for a few moments, and it will protect you from only one curse. It works best if you're able to keep moving and dodging. Sometimes you're trapped. Sometimes you can't get away. It would be pointless to keep casting this spell, because you would tire yourself and be totally on the defensive. In those situations, you'll want the more powerful Shield Charm. _Protego!_"

"_Protego!_"

"Good. This more powerful shield will deflect multiple hexes and curses or one higher powered spell. It will protect you from anything except the Unforgiveable Curses. Malfoy! Cast a spell at me!"

Draco paled considerably. "What?"

"Take your wand, point it, and curse me."

"No."

"No?"

"No. I'm not stupid. You'll wipe the floor with me."

"I just want to do a demonstration."

"That's what I said!"

"Curse me, Malfoy. Or do I need to start taking back those points I just awarded?"

Nervously, Draco pointed his wand at the Defense teacher. "_Furunculus!_"

The red light that came out of Draco's wand was absorbed by the bright, transparent blue light of Moody's shield.

"Again."

Draco continued casting the Boils Hex, and Moody's shield didn't so much as quiver.

"Switch it up. Would you keep using the same spell in battle? Once you see something is ineffective, change your tactics. Show me what you've got."

"_Petrificus totalis!_"

"What are you trying to do, Malfoy, tickle me? _Curse_ me."

The spell that Draco cast was an ugly yellow light. It bounced off of Moody's shield and buried itself in the classroom door.

"That's better. Learn that one from your father, did you? He wouldn't make that big of a mistake." Professor Moody turned to the class. "You see how the shield holds? Note how I have done nothing else since his first spell. He is spending energy. _He_ is tiring himself. I can deal with him at my leisure. _ Obstringere!_"

Draco tried to jump back as magical ropes reached for him. He failed. He was quickly hog-tied and helpless. His wand clattered to the floor next to him.

"The Protego shield gives you a few moments to collect yourself. Catch your breath, stand up, or move in an exposed area to seek better cover. Then you can go back on the offensive. Now, you're going to pair up and try deflecting each others' hexes. Keep it simple. I want you to try both shields."

Harry found himself standing across from Tim. He groaned, looking around for anyone else to partner with. Pillock or not, Tim knew a lot of nasty curses. Draco and Pansy were glaring at each other. Though they acted polite, it was obvious that they still harboured ill feelings. Pansy already had her wand out, and she looked eager to lay a hex on Draco if she could.

"I guess it's us."

Tim's face was hard. "Guess so. I'll go first."

Harry swallowed. He was doomed.

Tim cast his first spell. It was the Tickling Charm, one of Tim's favourites. He liked to distract his opponent immediately.

Harry snapped out, "_Aegis vocare!_"

The spell bounced in to the floor. So did Tim's Disarming Charm, Jelly Legs Jinx, and Full-Body Bind with a motion of Harry's wand and two magic words.

Harry wasn't getting a chance to get a spell off. He cast the Protego Charm, unfamiliar magic, and got ready to dodge to the side if it failed.

The shield held! It took two more spells before it collapsed in a blue shimmer. Harry had caught his breath, and he recast the shield. Now it was time to strike!

Harry sent a volley of hexes at Tim. He tried to not use his favourites, which Tim would be well-acquainted with. He slipped in a few rounds of the Conjunctivitis Curse and was disappointed when Tim managed to dodge.

Tim cast the Protego shield and lashed back with a cascade of icicles. Harry had forgotten that they were taking it in turns. Tim certainly wasn't playing like he was playing.

Harry's shield, which had improved each time he cast it, was now not so strong. He and Tim were the last ones standing. They fought to a stand-still. Tim's Full-Body Bind failed to even materialize. Harry was too tired to crow, but his delight quickly turned to dismay as his Disarming Charm fizzled halfway.

"Well done, lads!" Moody congratulated them roughly. "Put your wands away now. Sit down before you fall down."

Harry collapsed in to the chair with relief. Wow, had _that_ been good practice for the third task! Tim had been an unknown. It had been a long time since they had duelled. He had gotten better. Harry had improved even more.

"Nice job, mate," Draco whispered to him. "Really well done."

"A fine demonstration, though a little impromptu. Twenty points each, lads. I don't think I can give any better example of the usefulness of a shield. Thanks to your skill, you both managed to survive. In a real battle, chances are you would have lasted long enough for reinforcements. That's about the best you can reasonably hope for. Always assume that your opponent is better than you. Never believe for an instant that you have the upper hand. Expect treachery at every turn. Expect to die, and you will fight that much harder to cling to life. Your responses will be sharper, your movements quicker. The adrenaline will flow through your veins like molten lava. Embrace it. Use it."

The bell rang. Everyone hurried to put away their quills and parchment.

Harry looked at Tim. "Nice duel."

"Yeah. Pretty good."

"You've learned some new tricks."

"So have you."

"I've had a reason to."

"So you have."

"Still convinced I got myself in to it?"

"I have no reason to suspect otherwise. You're in first bloody place. You're probably going to win the third task as well and all the miserable glory. It's all going according to your plan."

"Except it's not my plan. I'm just doing my best to survive."

"It's not bad."

"Was that a compliment I heard?"

Tim snorted. "Maybe."

Maybe Tim was starting to come around. At this rate, he'd be convinced well after the tournament was over, but at least there was progress. Harry would accept it, meagre though it was.

Getting from Defence to Astonomy was always a bit of a hustle. There was seldom time for diversions, and even happening across Weasley couldn't distract Draco and Harry. But today Harry wanted to ask a simple question.

"How many have you got so far, Weasley?" he called down the corridor.

"Baker's dozen," Weasley retorted. "And I'm still recruiting."

Harry didn't respond, not wishing to get in to a confrontation that might make them late. "Me too."

Professor Sinistra was waiting impatiently for them. Late afternoon was her favourite time to teach, and she would often begin the lesson before the bell even rang. That usually wasn't a lot of time, but when Sinistra was fired up, she was hard to stop. That was the case today, as she went on and on about the gibbous moon and what magical effects were affected by it. The last bell rang, and Harry started to stand up.

"Back in your seats," she said as soon as the ringing stopped. "We're not finished here."

Stifling a groan, Harry uncorked his ink bottle again and continued to take notes. How could she do this to them? It was Friday! It was the weekend! It just wasn't fair.

Professor Sinistra talked for another five minutes, with all the Slytherins except Pansy and Crabbe squirming in their seats. She finished with the waxing gibbous and started to move on to the waning gibbous when Draco could no longer contain his discontent.

"Professor!" he complained. "Enough already, please!"

Sinistra glared at him with narrowed eyes. "Mister Malfoy, you do not appreciate the beauties of the heavens. Off to snog a beauty of the earth, are you?"

Draco could banter with the best of them, but having a teacher call him out on his snogging set him back on his heels, his cheeks burning.

"Ah, youth. I am not so ancient I forget what it is to feel that surge of euphoria. Very well, off with you then."

They bolted.

Down in the common room, Harry sat on one of the comfy sofas with most of his friends clustered around.

"Hey Ginny," Draco called out as the third years headed out to the library. "Join us, won't you?"

Ginny seemed surprised that Draco was addressing her directly. Even more startling was his use of her given name. Usually he called her Weasley, but not in any sort of nasty tone. She walked over to the fourth years, and Draco made room for her to sit next to him. With a wary expression on her face, she sat.

"What's up?" she asked.

"We've challeneged your brother and the Gryffindors to a game of Quodpot."

"Really? I take it he accepted?"

"He did. We're putting a team together-"

"And you want me to play? I'd love to."

Harry chuckled at Ginny's forwardness. He didn't even know that she liked to play Quidditch.

"You fly?" Draco sounded surprised. "Well, talk to Harry, and he'll add you to the list. But no, I want to know about your brother."

"Thinking of asking him out now?"

"No, his broom."

"You want to know about Ron's broom? Sounds personal."

Everyone laughed at that, even Draco.

"Can you be serious for a moment, please? He flew a Cleansweep Ten to qualify for the broom race. Where did he get that? Is he going to loan it out for this match?"

"He borrowed Charlie's broom to try out. He gave it back."

"Because he has that Model Eleven," Draco said worriedly. "We need to figure out what we're up against."

"So Harry, about that roster," Ginny said.

Harry had put together a starting eleven for the match against Gryffindor. Building from the seven members of the Quidditch team, adding Draco, Millie, and Tim gave him ten. He'd asked Higgs, the boy who'd played Seeker on the team previously, and the answer had been yes. Additionally, four of the third years had expressed interest as well. If Weasley managed to scrape up the players, Harry was prepared.

Wishing to do the thing properly, Harry and Draco had written a letter to the American lads they'd met at the World Cup, asking to borrow a Quod. The return package arrived after several weeks, complete with instructions. Their friends from across the pond had also sent a whole load of pointers, such as how to tell when you were about three seconds away from being blown up: the vibrations began to be detectable. In the match they'd played at the World Cup, Harry hadn't been able to really focus on figuring out the Quod because he'd been so busy trying not to be fouled.

The Slytherins had persuaded Professor Snape to brew the potion that prevented the Quod from exploding. The recipe was rather complicated, and Harry hadn't understood all of the instructions. With an amused glint in his eye, the Potions Master had promised that the cauldron would be on the pitch at the appointed time.

That day was April first, and Slytherin faced Gryffindor on a cool morning, where clouds drifted rapidly through the sky and the sun was playing peek-a-boo. Slytherin players wore official team Quidditch robes of green with silver trim. Gryffindor wore red with gold.

Harry carried his Firebolt; Draco had his Nimbus 2000. The rest of team was equipped with various Cleansweeps and Comets. The best broom on the other side was Weasley's Cleansweep Eleven prototype, but he didn't seem to be using it. Instead, he was holding a-

"Where the hell did Weasley steal a Firebolt from?" Draco demanded in an astonished whisper. "This isn't good. He might actually pose a threat. Imagine that."

"We'll whip him," Harry said reassuringly, but he was privately suddenly very nervous. The unexpected presence of another top-notch broom, let alone a Firebolt, might throw off everything. Where had Weasley gotten it? And how had it managed to remain a secret?

"Oh, I know," Draco replied. "But he has that broom for a reason. I want to know what it is."

"Well let's find out, shall we?"

Harry and Draco stepped forward, with Bletchley moving up to stand on Harry's left. Weasley, Johnson, and McClaggan came forward to meet them.

Harry did a quick count of the Gryffindors and noted with glee that they were one short of a proper team. "You don't have enough players to make regulation, Weasley," he sneered. "You have to forfeit."

"Just hand a broom to Longbottom," Draco drawled. "He can be the April Fool."

The Slytherins burst in to laughter, hooting and jeering.

"Shut up, Malfoy. I had one of mine back out at the last minute. She heard my brothers joking about how it was rougher than Quidditch and decided she'd rather not break a nail."

"More of that legendary Gryffindor courage, I see," Draco noted with a serious nod of his head. "Most impressive."

"Shut up, Malfoy. This isn't anything more than an exhibition. I've got ten players, Potter. You want to do this or not?"

"We'll do it," Harry said, as though he'd never considered otherwise. He, Draco, and Bletchley returned to the rest of the team. "Tim, off you go."

"What?" Tim sounded very upset. "What do you mean, 'off you go'?"

"We've got too many players. Take a seat."

"Bugger that, Potter! I was one of the first people to sign up for this!"

"And you're also the least experienced flyer. Millie, Draco, and I were running drills all summer at Malfoy Manor. Where were you? Plus we have experience playing this game. Everybody else is on the team."

"What about Higgs?"

"What _about_ Higgs?" Higgs demanded to know.

"Well, he's not on the team. What practice has he had lately?"

"You mouthy little _worm_, Nott," Higgs snarled. "I was playing Quidditch before you were even Sorted."

"You were never starting Seeker," Tim shot back. "You've only been a reserve."

"Which is more than you've been," Higgs said, folding his arms across his chest. "I trained with the team, and I at least went out for it. Now, unless you want me to ask my former teammates and _good friends_ to escort you off the pitch and behind the stands for a thrashing, I suggest you go quietly."

"Yeah, what he said," Bletchley added. "If you want a hope of making the team next year, Nott, you'll scamper."

Maybe it was the threat from the Slytherin team Captain, but Tim stalked off the pitch without another word. He did not go in to the stands to cheer on his house; Harry saw him head back towards the castle.

Ten players wasn't bad. It would be a lot more wild than Quidditch, that was for sure.

Lee Jordan was commentating, as he did for Quidditch. "And welcome sports fans to another exciting match here at Hogwarts. Today rival teams from noble Gryffindor and sneaky Slytherin will meet in the skies in a match of Quodpot!"

The crowd roared with approval.

"The rules of the game are this: Pass the Quod and dunk it in the cauldron of bubbling doom that you see in the centre of the pitch. If you sink it, that's a turn over, and the other team has to bring it out to the perimeter. If the Quod explodes in your face, you turn it over on the spot, and the other team gets a point. First to ten wins!

"Introducing the Gryffindor team: Bell! Finnigan! Frobisher! Johnson! McClaggan! Spinnett! Thomas! Weasley, Weasley, AAAAAAAND WEASLEY!"

The red and gold section of the stands cheered and hollered.

"Representing Slytherin today are: Bletchley! Bole! Bulstrode! Derrick! Higgs! Malfoy! Montague! Potter! Pucey! AND Warrington!"

"The Third!" Warrington called out, lost in the noise made by those wearing green and silver.

"All the normal rules of Quidditch apply where reasonable. That means no blagging, no blatching, no blurting, no cobbing, no wobbing, no sobbing, no wands, no weapons, and no potions of a war-like nature. Gryffindor, are you ready?"

"Yah!"

"Slytherin, are you ready?"

"Up Slytherin!" they screamed together.

"Take your places!"

All twenty flyers took to the skies. Slytherin began to move in a sinusoidal pattern over the cauldron of bubbling potion in the centre of the pitch. The Quod sprang out and in to the air. With a roar from the crowd, the game was on! Alicia Spinnett got her hands on it first. She drove for the cauldron, passing to Johnson. She avoided a swipe from Warrington and received the Quod back. Quick as lightning, Warrington snatched it away from her and passed it out to Pucey, who dodged around Johnson and passed to Montague. He checked hard in to Bell, who shoved him back just as fiercely. She managed to rip the Quod free, and it floated down gently until McClaggan zoomed by and scooped it up. He twisted and turned, evading everyone. He had just gotten past Bletchley, who was guarding the cauldron, when there was a thunderous detonation, complete with fireball and black smoke. McClaggan wiped soot off his face, looking quite surprised.

"Slytherin scores the first point. Hey, McClaggan, learn to share!"

McClaggan ungraciously hurled the Quod at the nearest green robe, which happened to be Bole. Play immediately resumed, and Bole's throw to Derrick was intercepted. One of the Weasley twins came away with the ball, and they passed it back and forth between them. Higgs careened through the space between them on a crazy angle to take it back. Harry zoomed after him, and they traded a bit. Harry faked a throw, and it was a good thing he did, because Weasley had stuck his big Firebolt in the mix. If Harry hadn't faked the pass, it would have been an interception. As it was, Harry threw the Quod to Draco.

Draco and Millie carried the Quod deeper in to the Gryffindor formation. They'd been working very hard all summer to hopefully impress Bletchley, even if they didn't make the team. Harry had helped, but these two were much better at Chasing. It translated well to this game, and they had played before.

Draco slammed the Quod in to the cauldron with a triumphant cheer. "Up Slytherin!"

"Is that a point?" Pucey asked.

"No, you only get a point if the Quod blows up on them. Gotta keep them from passing."

Spinnett took the Quod out for Gryffindor. The three Chasers launched in to a Hawkshead Attack Formation and came screaming down towards the cauldron. Harry had tried that against the Americans, and he had shared the knowledge of their response with his teammates. Slytherin's Chasers began to weave in a pattern called Birch's Defence. Bell's throw on the cauldron was blocked by Montague's tail twigs, and he batted the Quod to Millie, who flew out to begin a new assault.

The action of frequent passing reminded Harry of exciting Quidditch matches. He found himself wondering if some wit in the crowd would release a Golden Snitch just for kicks and giggles. Actually, that would be a jolly prank he wouldn't have minded playing if he weren't playing.

Bole couldn't get the Quod away in time and was the second victim of an explosion. The score was now tied at one each.

"And Weasley takes possession of the Quaffle- er, Quod. That's Ron Weasley, Gryffindor's racing champion, not riding his prototype Cleansweep Eleven. He's got a Firebolt between his legs, folks, and I have no idea where it came from. Attracting some sponsorship deals, perhaps? Weasley passes out to Weasley. That's Fred Weasley, former Gryffindor Beater, who passes to Weasley. That's George Weasley, former Gryffindor Beater. And speaking of Weasleys, I heard a rumour the other day that Charlie Weasley, former Gryffindor Seeker, might return to play for England!"

"Jordan! This is not Weasley Chat!" McGonagall wasn't too pleased with the commentator's blithering chatter. Harry absently wondered what sort of colour commentary she would find acceptable.

"The three Weasley brothers have penetrated most of the way to the cauldron of- what _is_ that stuff, anyway? I think it might be Professor Snape's next homework assignment. Oh, but the Quod explodes! And Ron Weasley wipes himself off as the Slytherins pull ahead two to one."

Harry tucked the Quod under his arm and dove for the cauldron. With his speed and Seeker skills, he hoped to take advantage of the Gryffindors' inexperience to sink the Quod. Frobisher and Bell took swipes at him, but Harry swerved tightly. McLaggan tried to foul him, but Harry put on the brakes, and he crashed in to Spinnett, who was coming to help.

The vibrations came on very suddenly. Harry almost didn't remember what it meant, but he threw the Quod out to Bletchley, who traded it back and forth with Higgs, Bole, and Derrick before muscling past Gryffindor's Terrible Triplet of Chasers to sink the ball again.

It was like Quidditch, but yet not at all. There was loads of fast and furious action, which had the crowd roaring with delight.

"Bell to Johnson, Johnson to Bell, Bell back to Johnson, to Spinnett, to Bell, to Weasley, to Weasley, to Spinnett, to Weasley again!"

Even Lee Jordan's glib tongue was having trouble keeping up with all the plays being made.

"And the Quod explodes!" Jordan announced with dismay. "Three-one, Slytherin!"

Harry, Draco, and Millie passed the Quod back and forth, keeping it away from Spinnett and Johnson. The two girls were very, very good as Chasing. Harry ditched the Quod out to Warrington, who drove in with Pucey and Montague to dunk it again.

The Weasley brothers managed to get past Bole and Derrick, who sorely missed their Beaters' bats. Higgs managed to get a hand on the Quod, but he was dogged by the brothers, and the Quod exploded.

"Higgs gets a taste of soot. Three to two, Slytherin, but Gryffindor is catching up fast!"

Slowly but surely, the Slytherins crept towards ten points. Gryffindor fought bravely, earning a hard seven points. The last point came as Draco blocked Finnigan from handing the Quod off to Thomas. Both of them came away covered with scorch marks.

"Yes!" Harry cheered.

The Slytherins took a victory lap of the pitch while the Gryffindors sank down in dejected defeat. The crowd cheered, the neutral houses of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, as well as their visitors from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, were evidently most impressed with the demonstration of a new broom game.

Harry landed and was immediately mobbed by his friends. Pansy was jumping up and down and _shrieking_ with excitement. Crabbe and Goyle were bellowing congratulations. The third years were a babble of amazed recountings of the most impressive plays of the game.

Jenna had her arms wrapped around Warrington's neck. Their kiss lasted a bit longer than the polite three seconds, and the Beaters began to snigger. Harry called out, "Get a room!"

Padma broke through the crowd of Slytherins to throw herself at her boyfriend. Harry caught her and lifted her up in his arms, spinning her around in a circle as she lowered her face to his. Their lips met in a sweet kiss that was the greatest reward of an arduous trial.

"Hey!" Draco yelled at him. "Get a room!"

Despite their desire to celebrate the win, every one of the players was covered in soot. The showers were calling in a no-nonsense sort of manner. Millie went alone in to the girls' locker room.

"The way we crowded Johnson right at the end there was smashing," Higgs celebrated.

Harry sat down on the bench and began to unlace his leathers. "She still got the pass off to Bell."

"She's good. Not good enough to get past Bole and Derrick, of course."

"That hit you gave her was brutal," Draco said to those worthies. "I'm impressed she didn't drop right out of the sky."

"Bell's a tough little minx," Bole replied.

Harry pulled off his Quidditch robe and clothes and dropped them to the floor. He grabbed his towel and headed for the showers.

"Pretty cute, too," Derrick added. "What I wouldn't give to give her a ride on my broomstick."

"Nah, I'd rather Chang. Bell's too tiny for me."

Harry scrubbed the soot off his skin with gusto. He stuck his head under the spray and the roar of falling water filled his ears.

"Yeowch!"

Harry jumped in surprise as Draco yelped in pain. He frantically wiped water from his eyes, turning around defensively to see Draco clutching his behind

Bletchley stood there with a twisted towel floating in the air next to him. He wore a manic grin and only a green towel wrapped around his waist.

"What the smeg?" Draco yelped. There was no defending himself except physically; he was completely starkers.

"Suck it up, Malfoy. I hear rumours you want to make the team next year. You're going to have a hell of a time unseating my Chasers. You think you have what it takes?"

"I've got it. Didn't I show it out there today? I flew my damnedest, because I knew you'd be watching. Tell me you weren't watching."

"I was watching. I saw some moderately decent flying from you. I also saw you suck flame three times. What do you have to say to that?"

"Quaffles don't explode, Bletchley," Draco said scathingly. "I was able to hold on to the Quod that _ long_ against multiple opponents."

"That is true. But you also had lots of intercepted throws. If you can't improve that, you're never going to make the team. Hold him."

Bole and Derrick grabbed Draco's arms from behind. Draco struggled, but he was helpless against the sheer muscle of the team Beaters. Draco had been working out lately; there was not an ounce of fat on his lean, hard frame. It was still hopeless.

Bletchley raised his wand, and the towel flew through the air. It soaked itself under the shower before retwisting and moving sinuously back and forth. Draco yelped as sharp cracks began to ring as the rat-tail struck him over and over.

"There's no crying in Quidditch, Malfoy," Bletchley taunted.

Draco's reply was unfit for gentle ears. As it were, the lads laughed heartily.

"You want to be lead Chaser? You need to be tough. How tough are you?"

"I don't know how to quit!" Draco gritted his teeth, fighting to hold it back.

"Can you fight?"

"I'll keep fighting with every breath in my body."

"For the glory of Slytherin?"

"Up Slytherin! Up Slytherin! Up Slytherin, damn you! Now let me go!"

The towel wrapped around Draco's head, and he fell to the floor trying to pull it away.

"Bletchley! This isn't funny!"

The team members disagreed. The Chasers that Bletchley was staunchly defending were hooting with laughter. Harry felt sorry for Draco, but the Captain was well within his rights to determine the suitability of any candidate for a position on the team in whatever manner he saw fit.

Draco wisely kept his grumbling to a minimum as they finished with showers, dried off, and got dressed again. Spirits were high as they headed back to the castle for the celebration.

It was an unspoken decision to skip tea and dinner in order to party that much more effectively. The older kids gathered in front of the fireplace, sipping smuggled alcohol from innocuous flasks. Harry and his friends claimed a corner of the common room. He, Draco, and Millie sat on a couch and basked in the admiration of their fellow Slytherins. Arcen Bulstrode and Jeremiah Goodwinter got in to a heated play-by-play retelling of the middle portion of the game where several fouls had been called.

The evening wore on, and the actual match was eventually talked out for the moment. Talk turned to the sport of Quodpot in general, and several people speculated about starting a proper club. Such talk was not limited to Slytherin, for Harry even heard McClaggan talking to his fellow Gryffindors about it the next morning at breakfast.

to be continued...


	22. Who Do You Call Family?

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Twenty-Two - Who Do You Call Family?**

The couples thing had made travel on the train more complicated than ever. While they had once been able to squeeze nine Slytherins in a single compartment, in first year, they had all grown considerably. Now that they were adding in boyfriends and girlfriends from other houses, things would have been quite cramped indeed had everyone remained one big group. A split was necessary.

Tim and Blaise were unaccounted for. Nobody knew where they had chosen to sit, nor even if they'd gotten on the train. Jenna was sitting with Warrington and the sixth years, much to the envy of the younger girls. Goyle and Pansy had gone off with some Ravenclaws. Mandy, Terry, Su Li, and Anthony Goldstein had claimed a compartment and invited the two Slytherins to join them.

With their girlfriends not going home for the Easter holiday, Harry and Draco joined Crabbe and Millie for the train ride. It was nice to spend time with just the pair without the rest. Switching up groups didn't happen often.

They played Snap, Gin, and Rummy, all of the Exploding variety. Millie cursed and swore just as fiercely as the boys when the cards exploded in her hands. She wiped the soot on her robes, which were old and grubby. She was almost aggressively casual, declaring, "I'm on vacation. I'm going to be comfortable."

They put away the cards as the train approached King's Cross station. Harry was near to bursting with eagerness to arrive. He still wasn't used to the idea of someone waiting for him, of being happy he was coming. He wondered if Remus would be there too. He might be working at the book shop today.

Harry barely waited for the train to stop before jumping on to the platform. He had his trunk in his pocket under a Shrinking Charm. Sirius had taught him how to do that. He hoped he wouldn't have to wait long for Sirius to arrive.

Millie took a sharp left, and Harry heard her mum going in to hysterics over the shabby state of her appearance. Crabbe's father walked over stoically. He nodded politely to Harry before silently bustling his son away.

"I'll see you later, Harry. I've got to have a leak."

"Well, you are Welsh."

"Har har," Draco said snootily, strutting away with his nose in the air.

Harry wondered if he should begin to wander the platform in search of Sirius. He might be staying in one place so that Harry could find him.

"Hey, Harry."

Harry turned and found himself standing next to Ginny Weasley. She had a crooked smirk on her face, and Harry could see laughter in her eyes.

"Hey, Ginny."

"Better scram before my three brothers come along. You're not their favourite person since that Quodpot match."

"It's been far longer than that."

Ginny smiled. "Yes, that is true."

"I'm used to it."

"It won't be any fun at all for Easter," Ginny noted with a sigh. "Percy's going to Lynn's parents' again, so I'll be all alone against the family."

"I'm really sorry you don't get along with your brothers. I can't even imagine."

"It's not just them. Mum and Dad don't understand me either. Maybe I should introduce them to you."

"To me? Why me?"

"Because you saved me in the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry felt a sudden chill at her matter-of-fact statement. He wanted to panic. What on Earth would her parents say to him?

"They hear a lot about you from Ron. It's all horribly exaggerated. Apparently you all breathe fire and have horns."

"Those would be Hagrid's Skrewts."

Ginny giggled. "So I hear. Glad I'm not in that class."

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley was a short, plump witch with shoulder-length red hair. She was sensibly dressed, wearing a plain brown skirt and a tan sweater that looked hand-knit. "Where are your brothers?"

"Getting in trouble," Ginny said promptly.

"They'd better not be. Hello, dear, I'm Molly Weasley." She held out her hand to Harry, who politely took it.

"Hello. Harry Potter. It's nice to meet you."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes didn't flick up to his scar, for which Harry was grateful. But they did narrow a bit, and Harry uneasily wondered how blistering her opinion of him would be.

"Nice to meet you. I've heard a great many things about you from all of my children."

Harry winced. Ron - he would have to use given names to keep them all straight - had undoubtedly told his mum highly colourful exaggerations of the times he'd been the victim of Slytherin pranking. On the other hand, he _had_ saved Ginny's life.

"I find second-hand accounts to be rather inaccurate," Harry said mildly. "It's no secret Ron and I don't play nicely together. Percy, though, is quite upstanding, and Ginny is one of the nicest people I know. I'm glad I was able to help her two years ago."

Mrs. Weasley seemed slightly distracted by that. "Yes, Ginny told us it was you. I was amazed that a twelve year old boy could-" She bit her lip and shook her head. "But it was all tied up with You-Know-Who, and so we just let it go. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for saving my little girl. She's the light in my eyes."

"Mum," Ginny said, blushing a vivid red.

"You're welcome," Harry said. He started to relax a bit. Mrs. Weasley seemed not to hate him, which was a good thing.

"And now you've gotten mixed up in that awful tournament. I read all about it in the Daily Prophet. I hope you're being safe."

"As much as possible."

"I wish I had some way to help you. Madness, letting a mere boy compete, but do they ask the mothers? No, they just carry on with their little games."

"You're very kind," Harry said with a smile. "I see where Ginny gets it from. I don't know if you remember, but we met once before, on the platform on the other side. You showed me how to get through the barrier."

"Oh my goodness, yes!" she gasped. "I'd absolutely forgotten."

"And after everyone found out about the Muggles I was living with, you sent me food. Pot roast," he suddenly remembered. "It was really good."

Mrs. Weasley frowned slightly. "The very idea that a child not be given food is disgusting. Muggles who do that sort of thing give the rest a bad name."

"I'm afraid I knew a lot of Muggles who were pretty brutal," Harry said, thinking of Dudley's gang of delinquents. Bash-the-Harry was one of their favourite games. "But I don't live there anymore."

"Yes, you've moved in with your godfather, I hear. That's wonderful. I hope things are going well."

"They are. Would you like to meet him? He's right over there."

Now that the crowd had thinned somewhat, Harry had spotted Sirius and Remus leaning up against one of the pillars. As Harry walked over, Sirius met him halfway. Harry hugged his godfather tightly. He never got tired of the warm feeling he felt at times like this. Somehow he just knew that everything would be okay. He felt protected; safe.

"I've brought the motorbike," Sirius said after a few moments. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes." Harry released Sirius and cleared his throat. "Hi, Remus."

"Hello, Harry. You're looking well."

"I feel well. Sirius, Remus, this is Missus Weasley."

"Molly," she said, offering her hand.

"Sirius Black."

"Remus Lupin."

"Mister Black, I am pleased that your reputation has been restored."

"It's nice to be vindicated."

"Mister Lupin, I heard rave reviews about your classes. Such a shame that you were forced to resign."

Lupin scratched at his moustache. "I'm used to anti-werewolf prejudice."

"My husband works in the Centaur Office, and he's done a lot of research in to the relations wizards have with other magical species. Did you know at one time Muggle werewolves were deceived about the nature of the magical world? They weren't told about the existence of witches and wizards until a few decades ago."

"That's not surprising. Half the time, I'm amazed they let me carry a wand at all."

"If certain people had their way," she said, not completing the sentence.

"Speaking of those people," Sirius interjected, indicating with his head.

Approaching at a leisurely walk was Mr. Malfoy. His snake-headed cane tapped with every other step. His long blond hair was pulled back by a black ribbon, and his dark blue robes looked very expensive.

"I think I'll be leaving, then," Mrs. Weasley said primly. "I have no desire to be abused by him today. Besides, I see the rest of mine have finally decided to get off the train."

"Good day, Missus Weasley," Sirius said.

"Good day, gentlemen. Come along, Ginny."

"Bye, Ginny."

"Bye, Harry."

As the Weasleys departed, Harry waved Mr. Malfoy over.

"Harry, so good to see you again. Hello, cousin. Lupin."

Sirius looked like he wanted to chew nails and spit iron filings.

"Hello, Lucius."

"Did you have plans for Easter, cousin?"

"Yes, we were going to have a meal at home."

Mr. Malfoy clucked his tongue. "You will join us at Malfoy Manor," he said, in a tone that did not invite discussion.

"Why, thank you, Lucius," Remus said appreciatively. "I should be fully recovered from my transformation by Sunday."

Mr. Malfoy looked like he'd swallowed a slug. "So long as you do not bite anything except the ham, I believe there will be no need for alarm."

"My, you _have_ mellowed."

Mr. Malfoy ignored that. "Dinner will be served promptly at one."

"We'll be there," Harry said, eager to disrupt this awkward moment. He didn't understand what was so hard about getting along that these adults couldn't seem to accomplish it.

"Good. Now I must go locate my youngest."

The ride back to Grimmauld Place was uneventful and short. Harry clung to Sirius as they zoomed through the streets. They didn't quite go directly, for which Harry was grateful. After parking the motorbike in the shed, they ascended to the sitting room.

Kreacher served tea on a simple china service. He attentively poured for his master first, then Harry, then Remus. He laid out a plate of scones with clotted cream and retreated with a low bow.

They talked idly about the train ride. Sirius asked after Padma, and Harry endured much good-natured teasing about where and how often he was going snogging. After finishing the last of his biscuits, Harry was eager to change the subject; he wanted to show off his progress with his Animagus form.

Harry cleared his mind and reached in to his soul. The now-familiar alien presence flooded his senses, but this time Harry opened his eyes. The floor seemed so very close. He looked down at his paws and then around in amazement.

Two pairs of feet were nearby, connected to very tall legs. Two grinning humans sat in chairs. The black one smelled like forest flowers, and the other- Harry froze in place, his muscles tensing instantly. The fur on the back of his neck was sticking straight up, and his tail lay flat. He began to chatter loudly as he backed away slowly. The dangerous one spoke.

"Harry."

With a crushing crunch of pain, Harry reverted back to his human body. He drew a shuddering breath and began to sob. It hurt. Every fibre of his body, every bone of his skeleton, and every inch of muscle wrapped around them was in agony. It was torment to draw breath, and worse torment to let it out. Yet if he tried to hold his breath, his tears choked him.

Then Padfoot was there, holding him tightly, rocking him slowly, whispering soft reassurances and words of pride. Harry took comfort in the strength of his godfather's embrace. Slowly, ever so slowly, the white haze in Harry's brain receded.

"You did good," Padfoot said assuringly. "Real good, Harry. You held it for a firm ten seconds. That's outstanding. Well done."

Harry couldn't respond. In the throes of his pain, he'd bitten his tongue.

When he'd had a cool drink of water and a minor Healing Charm, Harry felt able to talk again. The first thing he said was, "I'm ready to go again."

Padfoot snorted. "You're as stubborn as your father. Do you really feel like going through all that again?"

"Yes. I've got to get this thing right. The third task is coming up soon."

"One more try," Padfoot said firmly. "That's it. You can try again tomorrow."

Harry wasted no time arguing. He had his chance now. Clearing his mind, he tried to draw that alien perception again.

He took a deep breath. The scent of danger was back again, and he bolted for the open door.

"Harry!" shouted the dark one.

Harry didn't stop. He scampered up the hall and transformed back in mid-bound. He lay on the floor and curled up in pain.

"What's wrong?" Padfoot asked, emerging from the sitting room.

"I smell Moony, and I get scared," Harry admitted sheepishly.

Padfoot laughed. "Yes, I suppose there's that. Peter used to have that problem. It's because the animal knows it's prey for bigger creatures, like the wolf. You'll get it under control eventually."

"Let's go again."

"No, that was enough."

"I can keep going."

"You're done."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"I won't!"

"You will! And I don't know enough about Healing to put you back together again. Saint Mungo's will ask too many questions."

"You didn't let that stop you!"

"We took very risky chances."

"Padfoot, knock it off," Moony said mildly, joining them in the hall. "You sound like a grown-up."

"I have to be a grown-up, Moony."

"You don't have to be so square about it. Harry's doing extremely well."

Harry felt a rush of pride at Moony's words.

"I know. So there's no need to rush."

"If Prongs could see you now."

"If _Lily_ could see me now," Padfoot retorted. "She'd thank me very much for looking after her son's best interests."

Moony turned to Harry. "And with that, he wins the argument. You _could_ seriously hurt yourself, Harry, so let's go easy."

Invoking his mum wasn't really fair, in Harry's opinion. He didn't want to think she might be ashamed of or disappointed in him, and so any guilt trip involving her made him cave immediately.

"I'm sorry, Padfoot," he said. "I just want to be able to do it like you and Dad did."

"I'm sorry too, Harry. You'll get there. I'm eager too."

"But I want it now."

Padfoot laughed. "Patience, Harry. You must be patient. Keep in mind that you've gotten further in nine months than your father and I got in nearly two years."

Harry nodded. "I'll try."

"So let me change the subject. Do you remember me mentioning my cousin Andromeda?"

"Yes. That's Missus Malfoy's sister."

"She was disowned for marrying a Muggleborn man named Ted Tonks. She was always my favourite cousin, and in my long hours between bouts of worrying about you, I've been writing to her. We've been invited to dinner tonight. She says I'm not allowed to keep you to myself anymore."

Harry felt himself start to turn red, though he had no idea why. "I suppose we can do that. What should I wear? I'll want to look smart and make a good impression."

The two Marauders offered a great deal of outrageous advice in that regard, and despite their efforts to help, Harry managed to find suitable raiment that was proper for either a formal or informal dinner. If black tie and tails were required, he would be underdressed, but the odds of that were nil.

They arrived at the Tonks house promptly at half-six. Ted was a fair-haired, big-bellied man with a mellow and pleasant voice. "Hello! Welcome! Let me take your cloaks. 'Dromeda! They're here!"

Mrs. Tonks's hair was a light, soft brown, and her eyes were wide and kind. She emerged from the kitchen, and a very genuine smile made fine lines around her eyes crinkle. She didn't look that much like her sister Narcissa at all. "Sirius! At last!"

"Andromeda! You haven't changed a bit."

"Liar," she said fondly, laying one hand on his shoulder. "Who's the friend?"

"Remus Lupin. He was with me and James in school."

"Ah, I remember. Well, I've been at it for hours, so we'll have plenty of food. Any friend of yours is a friend of ours. And this must be Harry."

Harry's proffered hand was ignored as he was wrapped in a tight hug. His breath was squeezed from him, and he swore he heard a rib crack. "Nice to meet you," he croaked.

"Dora!" she called out. "Company!"

With a crash, several thumps, and more than a few swear words, a young woman with brilliant pink hair came down the stairs. She managed to trip over the last step and sprawled on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.

Mrs. Tonks shook her head slightly. "My daughter," she said fondly. "How she made it through the Auror program, I never will understand."

"Thanks, Mum." She stood up and offered her hand. "Call me Tonks."

"Her name is Nymphadora."

The girl who wanted to be addressed by her surname made a horrible face. "Call me Tonks," she repeated. "Please."

"Sirius, Harry, and Remus," Sirius said, pointing to each in turn.

Tonks shook hands with her cousin and Harry, but when greeting Remus, she seemed to be very distracted. She couldn't seem to look away from him and just kept shaking hands. Sirius coughed politely, and Tonks flushed and looked away.

Sirius winked at Harry, and Harry grinned back. There would be loads of teasing for Remus to endure later.

"Dinner will be ready in just a moment," Mrs. Tonks said. "Can I offer you all a drink?"

While Mrs. Tonks got drinks, Mr. Tonks ushered everyone in to the sitting room. Sirius was shown to the best chair, while Remus and Harry shared a comfortable sofa. Tonks sat nearby, leaning towards them slightly.

"Auror, huh?" Harry said to her. "Caught any Dark wizards?"

"Not yet. I've only been in the field for about six months."

"Professor Moody has told us all kinds of stories about his service. He's retired now."

Tonks giggled. "I think it's hilarious that he couldn't even have a few months off before he got called to another duty."

"Do you know him?"

"I certainly do. I was his apprentice. The last one, supposedly."

"Really? Cool. He's a really great teacher."

"Yeah. If he's giving you chaps the same sort of treatment we got, you should be well-served."

"He's made a habit of ambushing the N.E.W.T. students."

"He loves to do that with new recruits. You know his motto, of course."

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Tonks giggled again. "You have been paying attention."

"He doesn't like it if your mind wanders during his class."

Tonks had been in the Auror program for three years, only out since the start of last summer. She'd gone in fresh out of Hogwarts, where she'd been in Hufflepuff like her dad. Harry did some quick arithmetic and determined she'd finished the year before he'd started.

Dinner was a savory meatloaf with a thick sauce that tasted like heaven. Harry took a large second helping, ignoring his vegetables growing cold in the small dish.

Conversation at the table was light and consisted largely of catching each other up on life-stories. Mrs. Tonks was a Healer over at St. Mungo's, and Harry wondered if she'd be willing to quietly fix him up if he should push too far in his Animagus transformation. Mr. Tonks was a part of the Accidental Magical Reversal Squad, and he helped them fit in with Muggle society when they had to go out in public.

Sirius and Mrs. Tonks spent most of dinner reminiscing about old times. It seemed like they'd had lots of run-ins with the other Black siblings. Whether it was planting frogs in Narcissa's clothing drawer or slipping a potion in Bellatrix's pumpkin juice that made her hair turn Gryffindor red and gold, they roared with laughter as the impressions became more and more outrageous. Harry couldn't even take offense at the pranking of a Slytherin, because Andromeda Tonks had once worn green and silver herself.

They talked about old times and new. Harry had to recount both of the tasks he'd endured. Almost before he realized it, the hour had grown quite late, and it was time to say good night. Warm goodbyes were said, with promises to write very soon. Andromeda ruffled Harry's hair as he was about to enter the Floo.

"Good luck in the rest of the tournament, Harry. Up Slytherin!"

"Up Slytherin."

Though he practised twice every day, holding his form a little longer each time, Harry was still not ready by the time of the full moon on Friday. He accompanied the two friends as they descended to the special room in the basement. Massive iron bars were one of the precautions, against escape; padded walls were another, against injury. Harry looked in to the cell regretfully.

"I'm sorry, Moony. I wanted to be better by now."

"No worries, Harry. I'm quite impressed with your facility to date. Your father would be proud."

"I know you want to join us," Padfoot said, "but it's not time yet. You can barely sit still and hold the form. The instant you felt any pain, you'd revert, and then you'll be in a world of trouble. Maybe next time, and that's a huge maybe."

"Next full moon, I'm in school. The one after, too."

"Well, that maybe doesn't look so remote, now, does it, Harry?" Moony asked positively.

"No, not really. Have we figured out what I am, yet?"

"I'm still looking through that encyclopaedia I borrowed from the library," Moony said. "I'm up to Eff."

"He needs his own name," Padfoot decided abruptly. "What do you think about Prods?"

"Prods?" Harry asked, unable to stop himself.

"Son of Prongs."

"I don't look anything like a stag. I don't even have antlers. I'm pretty quick. I'm brown and furry. Nothing's coming to mind."

"These things take time," Padfoot said. "It will come when it's ready, and it will be readily apparent.

"Speaking of time," Moony said, drawing a shuddering breath. "I'd better get in there now."

"Right. We'll see you later, Harry."

"Have fun."

Moony snorted. "Fun, he says. He's definitely picked up your sense of humour, Padfoot."

"Me? That's Prongs through and through."

The door clanked shut, and Padfoot locked both it and the magicks that reinforced it. Harry stared at it, wishing he were able to hold his form. It was so frustrating that he hadn't fully mastered his transformation. With aimless footsteps, he wandered upstairs to his room.

The night was a bit unnerving. The noises from the basement were truly horrific. But they settled down after a bit, and Harry was able to put it aside and pay it no notice. He considered trying the transformation again, but he didn't want to have to lie if Sirius asked him point-blank.

Harry pulled out a few pieces of parchment and finished off his Charms essay. It wasn't great, but it would scrub an E at least. He sprinkled sand to dry the ink and put it aside. Now what?

He opened a desk drawer and rummaged for a music crystal by Wand Smasher. Placing it in the crystal port of the wizards wireless, he began to tap his fingers to the beat. He really wanted to go lift weights, but he knew he shouldn't. It wasn't smart to lift alone. Maybe he could get Kreacher to watch over him and make sure he didn't drop a barbell across his throat.

Harry reached for a fresh piece of parchment and began to scribble a mash note to Padma. He hadn't kissed her in nearly a week, and she was sure to have missed him. She was always a bit tetchy when she hadn't talked to him for awhile. He handed the letter to Regal, opened the window, and went to brush his teeth.

He changed in to pyjamas and got in to bed. He lay awake for a long time in the dark, just listening to the music. It was very soothing, even though it was fast-paced. The howls from the basement added a strange element to the chords.

On Saturday morning at breakfast, Harry unfolded his Daily Prophet to read the headline: Magical Child Protection Act Active!

The legislation authorizing the removal of Muggleborn children from the Muggle world for adoption by wizard families had been passed two years ago. Nothing further had happened, because the apparatus hadn't been established to handle the kids. Now the Home For Magical Children had been built and the first children had been taken during the night.

Harry wished it wasn't needed. Muggles were too fearful of magic to properly deal with magical children for things to continue on as they were.

"It sounds like something my family would come up with," Sirius said darkly. "I don't see how anyone can defend taking children away from their parents."

"No wizard should be raised by Muggles," Harry replied. "They don't understand."

"_Those_ Muggles didn't understand. They're not all like that. Do you really believe children should be taken from their parents? Should those children be deprived of their family just like you were?"

"Should they be knocked around like I was? If even one witch is punished because she can't explain accidental magic, that's too many."

"And that's something that should be dealt with. But I think there ought to be some proof of abuse before the children are taken away. The wizarding world is not nearly so concerned as it ought to be about proof."

"That would involve checking in on magical kids," Harry said. "I don't think the Ministry does that."

"No, they don't. And they ought to."

"Yeah. But Dumbledore was keeping me hidden away, wasn't he? The Ministry wouldn't have checked on me."

Sirius did not answer.

"Muggles are barbaric even without considering their fear of magic. It wasn't just mum's sister and her husband. It was my cousin, and he was the leader of the wretched little gang of hooligans who took their cues from him and made my life miserable. Nobody wanted to be my friend because Dudley learned from his daddy that I was different and difference is to be hated. Vernon hated me for being abnormal. Petunia hated my mum for being magical when she wasn't. Muggles are bad people."

"I know you've had some pretty rough encounters with Muggles. I'll admit, the Dursleys are the worst of the lot. But you can't judge billions of people by the example of three and a dozen."

Harry shrugged. "We have a Statute of Secrecy for a reason, Sirius. If Muggles could be trusted, we would trust them."

Sirius scowled for a moment. "I can't deny that. A select few Muggles know about us, but not many. Do you hate them?"

"The Dursleys?" Harry felt a bit caught off-guard by the sudden question. "Absolutely. The way they treated me would be called neglect if you were being very kind and abuse if you're being honest. They'd punish me when I did accidental magic, but I knew something had actually happened, so I couldn't tell anyone like you're supposed to when a grown-up hits you."

"It was wrong of them, and it's okay to be angry with them for it. But it's not okay to project their crimes on to all Muggles."

"No, they all have their own crimes."

Sirius exchanged a long look with Remus. Mercifully, he let the subject drop. Harry hated arguing with Sirius. His godfather could be high-minded as much as he wanted, but Harry had experienced Muggle brutality firsthand.

The day was spent working on his assignments. He took breaks from that to try holding his Animagus form steady. He was getting stronger, little by little.

On Easter Sunday, Harry, Sirius and Remus dressed in nice robes and took the Floo to Malfoy Manor. The adults sat at one end of the dinner table, further discussing the Magical Child Protection Act. Elan sat with Draco and Harry at the other end, still near the adults, but far enough away to carry on their own conversation, which was largely Draco talking about the Quodpot match again.

"Taking children away from the parents isn't right, Lucius!" Sirius shouted suddenly.

Harry winced. He hated it when Sirius and Mr. Malfoy argued, and they argued whenever they had a conversation that lasted longer than two minutes. This wasn't going to be pleasant.

"Maybe it's not right!" Mr. Malfoy said. "But it's not right for wizards to be raised by ignorant Muggles! It's not right that they abuse wizards for the fortunate accident of their birth. As one who professes to want what is best for the children, I would think you would want to see them raised by parents who understand their accidental magic and respond with love and joy rather than anger, fear, and distrust."

"None of you snooty purebloods is going to bring these Muggleborn children in to your homes. They won't get love and affection! They're going to rot in the orphanage, just as deprived!"

"The Home is not some rathole. The children will be quite comfortable while waiting for adoption."

"I say again, who is going to adopt these kids? And more to the point, who is going to be _allowed_ to adopt under this fascist policy?"

"Any family who is willing to raise the child as a pureblood, keeping all knowledge of the Muggle parents to themselves. It wouldn't do for the child to try to seek out the Muggles, after all."

"Yes, that would defeat the whole purpose of this atrocity you call justice. You're taking away who they are."

"They are witches and wizards. That is what is important. What they become will be what they will make of themselves with their natural gifts, just as it is with us."

"You also have a vault full of gold to help you become what you want. These children will have nothing. How are they supposed to succeed if they don't get adopted?"

"I am quite sure that a handful of children won't prove burdensome to place."

"So when are you going to adopt some of these darling children?" Sirius demanded bitingly. "Your pretty words mean nothing, Lucius."

"I wouldn't mind a baby girl," Mrs. Malfoy interjected. "The boys were wonderful, but I never got to dress them up."

"And thank Merlin for that," Draco muttered.

"Really, Narcissa?" Sirius sounded sceptical.

"Yes. Why do you think I've gotten involved?"

Mr. Malfoy smiled in a satisfied manner. "It only took two years to get the Home up and running. Government is moving quickly, which is quite surprising."

"Only because the wives are involved," Mrs. Malfoy remarked.

"The Ministry can move quickly when it wants to," Remus added.

The shouting seemed to have stopped, for which Harry was grateful. The adults continued talking, but he was able to tune them out. The meal continued, but they did not linger when it was over. After dessert, Sirius and Remus collected Harry for the return to Grimmauld Place.

As they were about to enter the Floo, Mrs. Malfoy placed a hand on Sirius' shoulder. "Thank you for coming, cousin. It means a lot to me that we can bring together what little of the family remains. With Reg dead and you in that _ place_, Bella there as well, and Andromeda estranged, I have been lonely."

"Have you reached out to her?"

Mrs. Malfoy made a wan half-smile. "She did not return my letter. Perhaps I will send her another."

"You should. If you want me to seriously entertain the idea that you and Lucius are trustworthy, I want to see you make up with your sister. I want to see you invite her husband to your home. Then I might start to believe all this jabber."

She paled. "The rift between us is vast. Many angry words still echo. But if it will help you and I as well, I will try."

to be continued...


	23. The Maze

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Twenty-Three - The Maze**

The start of the summer term would normally have meant that Harry was training hard for the last Quidditch match of the season. This year, however, it was the third and final task in the Triwizard Tournament for which he needed to prepare, but he still didn't know what he would have to do. He'd resorted to practising his duelling with Draco, Millie, and Jenna down in the Chamber of Secrets for hours at a time. Pansy tried to help, but she didn't have the stamina for sustained casting, nor was she particularly good at Charms.

Harry had gotten quite good at casting the Protego Shield and was able to deal with both Draco and Millie at the same time if they weren't shielding. Duelling two opponents sent a thrill of fear through Harry every time they did it. He knew the odds were stacked against him. Did he have the audacity to beat them again?

Finally, in the last week of May, Professor Snape came over to the table as dinner was finishing. He had a self-satisfied look about him, as though he had some Gryffindors to supervise in detention that evening. He stopped abruptly and his robes, which had been catching a slight breeze with his motion, settled in to position as he folded his arms.

"Mister Potter, Mister Bagman is expecting all of the champions on the Quidditch pitch tonight at nine o'clock sharp. He is going to tell you about the third task."

"Thank you, sir. I'll be there."

"I am most eager to learn the nature of it. Please don't keep me in suspense."

"Yes, sir." Outstanding. Snape would help him with the third task as well. Maybe he'd let Snape display the Triwizard Cup in his office.

So at half past eight that night, Harry left the Slytherin dungeons and went upstairs. As he crossed the entrance hall, Diggory came up from the Hufflepuff common room.

"What d'you reckon it's going to be?" he asked Harry as they went together down the stone steps, out into the cloudy night. "Fleur reckons we've got to find treasure in underground tunnels."

"On a first name basis with her, are you?" said Harry cheekily. "That wouldn't be too bad." He could use his Animagus form to see in the dim light and scurry through quickly. He'd be well situated if he had to fight. He was quick as a flash, and he could strike with tooth or claw and be away before anything could react.

They walked down the dark lawn to the Quidditch stadium, turned through a gap in the stands, and walked out onto the pitch. They stopped dead. Harry was horrified. The pitch was no longer smooth and flat. It looked as though somebody had been building long, low walls all over it that twisted and crisscrossed in every direction.

"What've they done to it?" Diggory said indignantly.

"They're hedges!" said Harry, bending to examine the nearest one.

"Hello there!" called a cheery voice.

Ludo Bagman was standing in the middle of the field with Viktor and Fleur. Harry and Diggory made their way toward them, climbing over the hedges.

"Well, what d'you think?" said Bagman happily as Harry and Diggory climbed over the last hedge. "Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high. Don't worry," he added, grinning, spotting the less-than-happy expressions on Harry's and Cedric's faces, "you'll have your Quidditch pitch back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"

No one spoke for a moment. Then -

"Maze," grunted Viktor.

"That's right!" said Bagman. "A maze. The third task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the centre of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."

"We seemply 'ave to get through the maze?" said Fleur.

"Nothing simple about it, my dear. There will be obstacles," said Bagman happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Hagrid is providing a number of creatures. There will be spells that must be broken. All that sort of thing, you know. Now, the champions will enter the maze in order of their standing in the points." Bagman grinned at Harry. "That means Mister Potter, then Mister Diggory, Mister Krum and Miss Delacour. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?"

Harry, who knew Hagrid's reputed fondness for feisty critters would likely be going out of control for an event like this, didn't think it sounded fun at all; however, he nodded politely like the other champions.

"Very well. If you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we? It's a bit chilly."

Bagman hurried alongside Harry as they began to wend their way out of the growing maze. Harry had the feeling that Bagman was going to start offering to help him again.

"Going all right, Harry? You've done phenomenally in the tournament so far. Optimistic about the maze?"

"You said the trophy is going to be in the centre?"

"Yes. Got an idea for winning, have you?"

"Sure," Harry said confidently. "No sweat."

Back up at the castle, Harry walked right past his fellow Slytherins in the common room. In the safety of his dorm room, Harry sat on his bed and held the enchanted mirror in his hands.

"Sirius Black!"

"Harry Potter!"

As it always did, hearing his godfather's voice made everything seem more manageable. Knowing he could rely on Sirius no matter what, knowing he didn't have to face the world alone, filled Harry with comfort. "It's a maze, Sirius. They're hiding the Triwizard Cup in the centre of a maze and we have to find it first."

"No problem for Marauder ingenuity!" Nothing put Sirius off his game. He played every hand to the fullest, bluffing outrageously at times.

"I'm not sure how to prepare. I don't know what specific trials I'm going to face."

"Then you'll need to be prepared for anything." That made a certain amount of sense. "You're still practising your spells with the others, right?"

"Yeah." In lieu of knowing what to prepare for, he'd worked at getting better with Defence.

"Keep that up. Offensive magic will probably be required. Make sure you can defend yourself. There could be anything waiting for you."

"Constant vigilance."

"Hah! Yes, constant vigilance."

"I've got to go tell the others now, but I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Good night, Harry."

Harry put the mirror away and went out to the common room to fill in his friends. He was halfway through describing the way the Quidditch pitch had been abused when Professor Snape stepped through the sliding stone wall.

"Mister Potter, what have you learned about the third task?"

"It's a maze, sir. We've got to get through it and find the Triwizard Cup."

"The maze will no doubt be filled with traps and tribulations."

"Most likely, sir."

"Work on your counterspells. Magical traps will incorporate common curses and hexes. Polish your best offensive spells for direct confrontations." He looked at the other Slytherins. "I trust you are assisting in this regard?"

"Yes, sir," they said.

"Good. Make sure you bring several potions with you, Mister Potter. I recommend the Camoflage Potion, a Bone-Restorative, and a Blood-Replenisher. I will provide you with more potent recipes by tomorrow morning. Any other potion you feel would be useful, inform me, and I will adjust the formulation accordingly."

"Thank you, sir."

"We must keep your winning streak intact," Snape said with a twitch of a smile as he stood up. "Up Slytherin."

"Up Slytherin," Harry replied. "Good night, sir."

"Good night to you all."

"Aren't you glad he's on your side, Harry?" Jenna asked. "Would you have thought of carrying potions?"

"Definitely not. I wonder if I can just brew a whole bunch of Dissolving Draught and burn my way directly to the centre."

"Probably not," Draco said. "I bet the hedges of the maze are going to be resistant to things like fire, Reducto Curses, and so on. You're going to have to traverse the maze."

"I wonder if I could get up on top of the hedges."

"Maybe, but they've probably thought of that too. After what you did against the dragons, they'll probably block anyone from using brooms to get above it."

"You're just full of good news, aren't you?" Harry said morosely, kicking at the fringe of the rug.

"Just trying to help."

"You can help best by keeping up with what you've been doing so far," Pansy said. "You heard Professor Snape. After the unorthodox challenges of the first two tasks, traditional skills are now being called for."

"Then I'm glad we haven't been wasting our time," Draco replied.

At lunch the next day, Harry veered towards the Ravenclaw table. He wanted to tell Padma all about the maze. Maybe with her brains she'd figure out a trick to help him get through.

"Hey, Padma," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Harry, we were just talking about you. It's all over school that the third task is a huge maze."

"I was going to tell you over lunch. Want to join us?"

"Sure."

"Harry!" Terry protested. "You can't do this."

"So join us. I'm sure Pansy wouldn't mind. Goyle either, Mandy. Come on."

The three Ravenclaws picked up their plates and cups and jumped to the next bench.

"Well, I love mazes," Padma said. "Puzzles of all kinds, really. They're great for a change of pace during study sessions. They still require thought, but it's completely different from revising. Did you know that if you follow the right-hand edge of a maze you'll eventually reach the centre?"

Would he be able to find the centre in time if he used that trick? He would have to fight through all of the challenges in the loops and dead ends before getting there. Surely there were other things he could try.

"But maybe you should talk to Professor Vector. Arithmancy is all about derivations, right? There's got to be a way to discern the best path to take. She's bound to know it."

Arithmancy was their next class. Funny, that. After the lecture, Harry and Padma lingered. Professor Vector finished stuffing their collected essays in to her bag.

"Yes? What is it, Potter?"

"Professor, I don't know if you've heard yet about the third task."

"News travels fast around this old castle. I've heard."

"I was thinking it would be really helpful if I could keep my bearings. Is there an Arithmancy spell or something I can use to figure out my direction?"

"Were teachers allowed to help you, Mister Potter, Professor Sinistra would advise you to look at the stars."

"There's no guarantee I'll be able to see the stars."

"Most astute of you."

"Arithmancy is one of the most powerful branches of magic when properly applied," Harry said, throwing the flattery in shamelessly. "I was hoping to learn a technique or something that would help me derive which way to go, to differentiate between the correct path and the wrong path."

"Arithmancy can indeed fulfill your requirements, Mister Potter." Professor Vector said, sending Harry's hopes soaring. "But I am not supposed to help you."

"I didn't enter myself in this tournament. I'm just trying to survive. I need your help. Please." Harry suddenly remembered something else. "I hear tell that you were a Slytherin when you were in school. Is that true?"

"It is."

"Then I'm asking as a Slytherin."

Professor Vector ran a hand through her black hair and sighed. "Very well, Mister Potter. From one Slytherin to another, I will tell you. Yes, there is a handy bit of magic called the Point Me Charm."

"What does it do?"

"It will show the caster which way is north."

"That's it?"

"Yes. I see the question you have. You know how to find north, but you don't know if north is good. It doesn't help you decide between the three paths in front of you and the two behind. This is the wand motion you combine with the Point Me Charm, and it will lead you to your target."

"Thank you, Professor. Thank you so much."

"Good luck in the Maze."

Harry practised the Point Me Charm every day. He would send Draco off to some distant corner of the castle and use the spell to find him. It was a tricky Charm to get the hang of, but it was well worth the time Harry spent to learn it. Once he had mastered using it to find a person, he tried to track down his Firebolt. Like the Triwizard Cup, it was an inanimate object. This was much harder, but with a week of practice, Harry could find his way all the way across the castle.

The first Monday of June was Draco's fifteenth birthday. They hadn't planned anything big or exciting, as it was a Monday, but the fourth years gathered in a corner of the common room to listen to the wizards' wireless with certain guests from Ravenclaw and one in particular from Gryffindor. Everything was going swimmingly until an apoplectic sputter made them all turn their heads.

"What is this?" Terence Higgs, seventh year prefect stood in the entrance to the corridor that led back to the dorms. "What in the name of Merlin's voluminous, star-spangled robes is this? I see four people who do not belong here. Who are these Ravenclaws and Gryffindor?"

"They're guests, Higgs," Harry said, not really concerned. "It's a party."

"This is the _Slytherin_ common room, Potter. There have been far too many non-Slytherins hanging around lately. There are plenty of other places in the castle to carouse. If you don't wear green and silver on a regular basis, get out. Now. Or I start taking points."

Padma, Parvati, Terry, and Mandy all grumbled. Harry, Draco, Pansy, and Goyle muttered darkly. Goyle picked up the wireless. All of the couples exited through the stone wall and stood on the spot.

"Bloody sod," Draco said. "I'm not about to let this party end. Where can we go?"

"It's nearly nine. Should we even bother?" Terry asked.

"Of course we should," Harry declared. "Have you no spirit?"

"No, we don't have any spirits. None of the older students would get us any."

"Well, it's a good thing I smuggled a bottle back from Easter," Draco said. "This was the plan, eventually, any way. Let's go find a storage room and transfigure ourselves some furniture. Are you up to it, Terry?"

The Ravenclaw boy bristled. "Anything you can change, I can change back and forth, Draco."

"Let's see if you say that after a couple of sips."

"What is this stuff you're so keen on?"

"Elan called it the Unforgiveable Liquor. We got drunk the night before the train. He wanted it to be a controlled experience, he said. I nicked the rest of the bottle."

"So that's why you were so grumpy," Pansy said. "Hungover? How frightfully gauche."

"This is more than liquor. There's magic infused in to it, and it's a kick you don't get used to. It makes firewhiskey taste like water."

"I thought you didn't approve of drinking."

"I don't approve of getting blitheringly drunk," Draco corrected her meticulously. "Maybe you shouldn't have any."

"Are you challenging me?"

"I would never dream of it, Pansy, darling. It's my birthday. I want only to listen to some good music, take a few sips, and share a few kisses with my gorgeous girlfriend." Draco raised Parvati's hand and considered it briefly before kissing it. Pansy shot him a dirty look.

The room they found was filled with crates of old books. The wood made fine material for transfiguring in to chairs. After summoning up some globes of light to see by and setting up the wireless in the corner, Draco and Terry tried to outdo each other with fancy carvings and elaborate design. Pansy and Parvati stood next to each other with folded arms, cocked heads, and vicious glares when each thought the other wasn't looking.

Harry looked at Padma. The amused look she sent him nearly made him snort with repressed laughter. He nearly muffed his transfiguration, the practice of which was now near second nature to him.

Goyle and Mandy were working together on one chair at a time. Neither of them was particularly gifted in that arena, but they were able to achieve success with a little teamwork.

Now that they were all comfortably seated, Draco uncorked his flask and took a long sip. He passed it to Harry, swallowed, and sucked in a deep gasp of air. A red flush crept up his face. He coughed once.

"Wow," Harry said. "Here goes."

The drink was fleeting and ephemerous. Harry rolled it over his tongue, and he tasted mint. He handed the flask to Goyle and swallowed. It spread cool numbness as it slid down his throat. He drew in a deep breath and the chill shot up in to his brain. He gasped involuntarily and fell prey to a coughing fit. When he finally caught his breath, he looked up in embarrassment. He knew his face was burning red.

"All right, Harry?" Goyle was eyeing the flask with trepidation.

"Never better," he croaked.

Goyle choked on his sip, his throat violently rejecting the drink. It sprayed from his mouth, covering Pansy with sticky blue liquid. He thrust the flask at Terry and doubled over, hacking and wheezing for breath.

Parvati laughed merrily as Pansy glared at Goyle. She pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her face, but it was futile. "Terry, dear?" she said sweetly.

Terry was very quick with his Cleaning Charm. He didn't look at all like he wanted anything to do with the flask, but Draco was looking at him expectantly. Raising it in the air a bit in a mock toast, he took a small sip. He handed the flask to Padma and began gasping.

Padma took a dainty taste, passed the flask to her twin sister, and smiled sweetly. Parvati was likewise non-challant as she took a pull. Pansy glared at them both.

"How can you just sit there when these boys are nearly dying?"

"It's not so bad. Nothing like dad's curry recipe." Padma smiled. "Pass it back over."

"Hey, I didn't get any," Mandy protested.

Pansy appeared thoughtful, considering the twins with narrowed eyes. "Me first."

Pansy fared no better than the boys. Neither did Mandy. Harry's vision was spinning. Whatever the drink was, it was potent. Fortunately, the choice of whether or not to have another sip was not up to him. After everyone had taken one, the flask was empty.

Mandy finally stopped coughing and set the flask on the floor. "Who wants to play Spin the Bottle?"

Harry felt himself getting hot under the collar, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. If he understood the rules properly, one had to snog with whichever girl the bottle pointed to.

"No way," Pansy said instantly. "I'm not risking having to lock lips with a Malfoy again."

"You should be so lucky," Draco retorted.

"Nor would I wish that on you, Mandy, dear," Pansy continued, as though she hadn't heard. "Surely Goyle meets your satisfaction?"

"Oh, he does. It was just an idea."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

There was some snogging, but it was only between the couples, and it was not excessive. Before long, the bell sounded near-curfew, and the Slytherins had to say good night as the non-Slytherins hurried back to their own common rooms.

Harry ran on all fours around the small room. He was still having trouble getting used to his tail, but at least he was able to hold his form long enough to run around a bit. According to his watch, his best record was six minutes and thirty-eight seconds.

He rolled over and licked at his tail. Something just felt _wrong_ about the hairs, and he needed to put them back in to place. He was in the middle of that task, bent nearly in two, when he could no longer hold the form and flashed back to his human body.

His spine was not meant to bend that way, and he straightened out with a gasp of pain. Every nerve was tingling, and his fingers were twitching. Harry lay on the floor until he could move without agony and stood up.

It was time to eat breakfast. Harry's rumbling stomach reminded him of this fact most insistently. He made his way up to the Great Hall to join his friends at the Slytherin house table. He nodded a greeting and dug in to the scrambled eggs.

Regal brought up a thick envelope with a letter from Sirius, a letter from Remus, and a seemingly inexplicable bit of spare parchment. He turned the parchment over and over in his hands, wondering what possible use it could be. He opened the letter from Sirius.

_Dear Harry,_

_I DARE Snape to do better than me this time! The parchment in this package is going to let you win that damned tournament. What is it?, you may ask. It's a fancy little trick in the same vein as the Marauder's Map. We didn't draw the Map by hand, you know. We let our experiences fill it magically, and that's what you can do with this. When the third task starts, where you've been will appear. You won't have to worry about going backwards or in circles. To use this Map, tap it with your wand and tell it, "Help me find my way." That will activate the magic. From there, just be quick and stay safe. I'll be coming up to the castle again to cheer you on. You'll cut right through that maze, get the Triwizard Cup, and we'll go out to celebrate. You can have my full permission to get smashed. I think you deserve it._

_Love,_

_Sirius_

Harry shook his head as he finished reading the letter. His godfather was such a goof. Still, might as well use the chance to find out what getting drunk was all about. The sip of strong liquor he'd had on the night of Draco's birthday party had made his head spin for nearly an hour.

The Map was phenomenal. It was perfect. He would be able to negotiate the Maze by foot and get around most of the obstacles in his Animagus form. He would nip in, grab the trophy, nip out again, and have an early supper.

He opened the other letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_Sirius is going to tell you all about the Map, so I'll spare you that. Instead, I'll tell you about him. We've been working on this little project for three solid weeks now, and he's so glad to have something to do that he's done nothing else. He's frantic. He hasn't been sleeping well. He'll never admit to it, of course, and he'd slug me if he knew I'd told you. Please be careful in the Maze. I don't know what Sirius might do if you got hurt._

_The Maze has been used before in other tournaments. It's going to be filled with all kinds of nasty things. They probably won't be deadly this time, but they won't be easy to get by. Keep up with the duelling practice. That's probably your best bet as a general preparation. There could be a few twists though, and you'd best bring your thinking cap if you run in to any puzzles. Above all, use your Animagus form only as a last resort. You still can't maintain a stable transformation. Trying to get all the way through would likely be too tiring for you, and the last challenge would get you. Use some of that Slytherin caution, okay?_

_I'll be coming up to Hogwarts for the task. I look forward to seeing you. I was thinking we might try to get Sirius out on a boat for a good throwing-in of the lake. What do you say?_

_Mischievously,_

_Moony_

Harry put down the letter and stared at his plate. Sirius wasn't sleeping? He was up all night working on the Map? Harry clenched his fists, suddenly wanting very much to hit whomever had gotten him in to this cursed tournament. How dare they make Sirius worry about him?

Harry worked doubly hard at his practice over the next nine days. He duelled with Draco, Millie, and Jenna now, though he often lost. He pushed his Animagus form even harder, training three times a day if he could. Final exams began, and Harry sat for them, despite being exempt as a Triwizard champion. It wasn't to show off, just that Harry needed to know how much he really understood about the subject material.

Almost before he could believe it, it was the day of the third task. Harry woke up well before his alarm, checked his watch, and sighed. He sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees. Today was the big day. Today he would enter the maze in pursuit of the Triwizard Cup, to become the youngest tournament winner in history. Was he quick enough? Was he strong enough? Was he skilled enough? Was he ready?

Harry quietly gathered his bath things and headed for the bathroom. The spray of the shower made a lot of noise in the empty tiled room. He stepped under the jets of hot water with delight. He meticulously washed every bit, shampooing his hair and conditioning as well. When he was clean, he dried off and wrapped a towel around his waist. He stood at the sink and brushed his teeth, taking quite a bit longer than he normally did.

Back in the dorm, Harry pondered what to wear. Some of those excellent athletic robes sent up by Mrs. Bulstrode would definitely be in order today. He laid out green with silver trim, no sleeves, that reached only to mid-thigh. A pair of black trousers would serve nicely, though perhaps he should wear his dragonskin. There was no telling what he might encounter in the maze.

Nobody was up on a Saturday morning. Harry sat alone at the Slytherin table until he was joined by Jenna, Laine, and Ginny. None of the three girls said much about the task later that day. Harry was glad for that. They talked about the latest gossip concerning Gilderoy Lockhart and the daughter of the Swedish Minister for Magic. Apparently there were some exotic Charms involved, though nobody could really say which ones (thus fuelling the gossip).

Harry was determined to not work himself in to a frenzy of worry. He lounged around the common room playing games with his friends. He had prepared as much as he could. It would have to be enough.

He remained calm through the morning, until Professor Snape approached the table during the mid-day meal. "After lunch, Mister Potter, please report to the antechamber. The families of the champions have been invited to the castle."

Family turned out to mean Sirius, who was delighted to surprise Harry in this fashion. They spent several hours just strolling the grounds. Sirius would tell old stories as locations jarred his memories. Harry offered to show off his Animagus, and Sirius was eager to see his progress. While he was impressed, he cautioned Harry not to wear himself out. He would need all of his strength in the maze. Before it was fair, it was time for dinner. Sirius joined Harry at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall for a grand feast.

Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the staff table now. Cornelius Fudge looked stern and was not talking. Ludo Bagman seemed oddly subdued, and he didn't speak to those around him. Madame Maxime was concentrating on her plate, and Harry thought her eyes looked red. Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her.

There were more courses than usual, but Harry, who was starting to feel nervous now, didn't eat much. As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mister Bagman down to the stadium now."

This was it. The moment of truth. Destiny had called his name again, and now Harry Potter had to answer. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could survive the Maze. He might not win, but he would survive. He would strive to his utmost to win - no Slytherin could do less - but if his best was not enough, then he would take pride in his two triumphs. He'd been spectacular thusfar, if he were being honest. A combination of good advice and good luck had let him come up tops. Even if he weren't the fastest through the Maze, he would survive it.

Harry stood up.

"Good luck, chum," Draco said seriously.

Jenna squeezed his hand. "Up Slytherin."

Pansy touched his arm. "Good fortune, Harry."

"Be safe, Harry!" Blaise said. She looked like she wanted to say so much more, but he couldn't stay to hear it.

The well-wishes of Slytherin House - and many Ravenclaws also - went with him as he headed out of the Great Hall with Diggory, Fleur Delacour, and Viktor. They did not speak as they walked, down onto the Quidditch field, which was now completely unrecognizable. A twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a gap right in front of them: the entrance to the vast maze. The passage beyond it looked dark and creepy.

Five minutes later, the stands had begun to fill; the air was full of excited voices and the rumbling of feet as the hundreds of students filed into their seats. The sky was a deep, clear blue now, and the first stars were starting to appear. Professors Hagrid, Moody, McGonagall, and Flitwick came walking into the stadium and approached Bagman and the champions.

They were wearing large, red, luminous stars on their hats, all except Hagrid, who had his on the back of his moleskin vest.

"We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze," said Professor McGonagall to the champions. "If you get into difficulty and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?"

The champions nodded.

"Off you go, then!" said Bagman to the four patrollers. For someone so excited about the whole tournament, he was certainly controlling himself well.

The four teachers walked away in different directions, to station themselves around the maze. Bagman now pointed his wand at his throat, muttered, "_Sonorus_," and his magically magnified voice echoed into the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Truly, tonight will go down in history. Currently in first place is Harry Potter of Hogwarts, with ninety-one points!"

Cheers and applause.

"Also of Hogwarts, in second place with seventy-nine points is Cedric Diggory!"

More applause.

"Third place, seventy-seven points, Viktor Krum of Durmstrang Institute!"

More applause.

"Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!"

Harry waved to Sirius.

"On my whistle, Harry!" said Bagman. "Three - two - one -"

He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harry hurried forward into the maze. The hedge closed behind him, shutting out the roar of the crowd. Eerie silence surrounded him. It was like a forest on any other moonless night, but there were no nighttime sounds heard here. It was a dead silence, not a vibrant darkness teeming with unseen life. It may have well as been on the far side of the moon for all Harry felt completely and utterly alone.

He shoved his fancy to the side and got down to business. He reached in to his pocket for the Map. He drew his wand. "_Lumos!_" He tapped it the map and ordered, "Show me the way."

A bright silver dot appeared on the parchment, with a green banner that had his name on it. Black walls appeared on three sides, with an arrow pointing in at one of the walls.

"You are here," Harry said, fighting back a chuckle he feared might devolve in to insane laughter. This place was spooking him with its quietness.

There was one more spell he needed to cast. "Point Me to the Triwizard Cup!"

A glowing chalice appeared on his Map. It would have to do.

"Come on, feet."

After about fifty yards, he reached a fork. Harry took the left one and heard Bagman's whistle for the second time. Diggory had entered the maze. Harry sped up. The whistle blew again. Viktor was in now too. Harry's chosen path seemed completely deserted. He turned right, and hurried on, holding his wand high that he might see as far ahead as possible. Still, there was nothing in sight. Bagman's whistle blew in the distance for the fourth time. All of the champions were now inside. May the best wizard (or witch) win.

Harry had done well for himself. He'd been a credit to Slytherin House and to Hogwarts. He'd beaten the dementor with a Patronus Charm, only to realize that it was really a boggart. He'd been unable to answer the Sphinx's riddle, so he'd ducked around a corner and transformed. The guardian had taken no notice of the small, brown mammal, and Harry had scurried by without challenge. One of Hagrid's Skrewts had posed the most trouble, and Harry had needed to resort to indirect magic to trap it. He'd fought through disorientation spells, walls of flame that suddenly sprang up around him, and fierce howling winds. He'd been in the maze for nearly two hours, according to his pocket watch. It felt like so much longer. He jumped at every sound, because the place was so artificially silent. Sounds meant trouble. There was lots of trouble in the maze.

The way ahead was blocked by large wooden spikes. They were covered with scorch marks, as though someone had tried to burn through them and had failed. Harry melted in to his Animagus form and dashed towards the barrier. He nimbly ran around the spikes and through the space between them. On the other side, he changed back. He staggered a bit, placing one hand on the wall to steady himself. He wouldn't be able to do it that many more times. Already his bones were aching.

At the end of the row, Harry was forced to make a right turn. He peered around the corner and saw a glowing light. His heart leapt in to his throat. Could this be it? Had he made it through?

The path to the cup was long. Harry could nearly smell the trap. He tucked the Map away and summoned up three spheres of burning flame by which to both see and defend himself. With a deep breath, Harry stepped around the corner. He moved forward cautiously, eyes alert to any movement.

Rather than a monster or a riddle to solve, even now when he was approaching the finish, the maze decided to show Harry a new trick. Vines burst out from the walls around him. Harry swore in surprise and cast quick Incendio Curses to burn them away, but more kept coming. Harry waved his wand, directing the flaming spheres towards the sources of the vines. That worked for a second, and Harry ran for it.

The vines chased him, clutching at his arms, legs, and feet. He stumbled many times and nearly fell, but Harry burst through the grasping tendrils of the hedge and in to the clearing. The Triwizard Cup sat on a stone plinth in the middle, glowing softly, the only source of light in the darkness.

The vines waved angrilly from the maze, but they did not follow him. It seemed he really was at the finish. Might as well go get the cup and get out of here. Harry was on guard as he moved slowly towards the cup. Surely it couldn't be this simple.

Diggory burst out of the maze across the clearing. He began to run towards the cup, but Harry sent a Leg-Locker in his direction. Diggory slowed up.

"Potter," Diggory said. "Good show, yeah? But I'm afraid this is where it ends for you."

"I'm ready for you," Harry replied.

Over Diggory's shoulder, Harry saw Viktor emerge from the maze and raise his wand.

"Look out!" he shouted, and Diggory dove to the ground without hesitation. The jet of blue light passed harmlessly over his head.

"Thanks," Diggory said as he turned towards the new threat. He began to exchange spells with Viktor.

Now was his chance. While they were occupied, Harry could snag the cup.

Halfway to the stone plinth, Harry was forced to dodge as a pale white spell flew at him. He looked for the source, and Fleur Delacour stepped out of the bushes.

They wasted no words, not even to exchange insults. It would be foolish bravado to engage in verbal oneupsmanship. The time for speeches was over, and now only action mattered.

Harry began with several minor spells designed more to distract his opponent than incapacitate. It was a tactic he had learned from Tim. Itching Hexes, Tickling Charms, and Tripping Jinxes all worked to irritate and unbalance an enemy.

Fleur knew a fancy shield, because she blocked all of the spells with jabbing motions of her wand. She parried a Boils Hex back at Harry, who had to roll out of the way. She followed up with a spell in French that Harry blocked with Protego. He hadn't counted on not being able to understand her. How good _was_ her English? Or rather, her Latin?

Very good, it turned out. She knew the right counters to all of the spells he cast. He had to rely on the Protego Shield, which was far more tiring than countering a specific spell. That was why it was so important to know about spells. Harry wished he had thought to learn a Translation Charm.

He couldn't out-duel her. That much was clear to him in the first few minutes. She was the best Beauxbatons had to offer. She had been trampled by a dragon and dragged in to the depths of the lake by grindylows, but she was no slouch at her wand-work. Her movements were precise, her hands sure and steady. A steady stream of syllables rolled off her tongue, and the blasts of coloured light were giving Harry a steady workout to avoid. He couldn't keep this up forever. He couldn't cast as fast as her and dodging would only work until he made a mistake.

Harry cast another Protego Shield to give himself time to work. He needed to be creative. Transfiguration? Why not? With a wave, the ground beneath Fleur's feet turned to ice. He thrust out his wand in a stabbing motion and _thought_ as hard as he could: Push!

Fleur couldn't block the sheer force of the blast, and she slipped on the ice and fell to the ground. She landed on her wand arm, and Harry heard a bone snap. She choked back a cry of pain. Resolutely, she picked up her wand with the other hand and struck again.

Harry was amazed at her tenacity. He hadn't realized she had such heart. That determined look in her eye was downright scary.

Fleur wasn't as good with her left hand, and Harry got lucky as she miscast her shield and got hit with his Stunner. She crumpled to the ground. Harry, breathing heavy, didn't even have the wind to gloat.

Viktor and Diggory were going at it with no spells barred. Harry had never seen any older students duel properly, and he was impressed. Viktor's face was ugly as he stabbed at Diggory repeatedly with dark spells that looked plain nasty. Diggory seemed completely confident, his face serious but unworried, as he parried Viktor's curses with not a single wasted motion. He interlaced his own replies, scoring many near-hits through Viktor's weakening shields.

Harry couldn't look away. He knew somewhere that he should be making a grab for the Triwizard Cup or hexing the both of them, but he couldn't look away. The back and forth, the clash of curse and shield, hex and counter-hex, was hypnotic to watch. They were magnificent.

It was the Banishing Curse that broke through at last, sending Viktor soaring in to the air and back halfway to the starting point. Harry applauded the win; it had been a fantastic duel, even the little he'd witnessed.

"Well done," he called out. He was genuinely impressed with Diggory's tenacity. He would be tough to beat.

Diggory turned quickly, almost as if he'd been expecting a hex in the back. He approached swiftly, brandishing his wand in front of him. He and Harry faced off.

"Looks like it's down to you and me," Diggory said. He had a hard expression on his face. Harry wondered what he had faced in the Maze. Diggory was all business.

"Looks like." By Merlin, were they really going to talk? Should he strike first, when Diggory wasn't expecting it? Maybe try to talk him out of it. "At least Hogwarts gets the win, right?"

"Sure. If you say so. Are you ready?" Diggory asked.

"If you are." So much for talking him out of it.

The duel began. It was easier to fight Diggory, because all his spells were in Latin, which Harry understood. He knew the right counters to many hexes, which let him save his energy when defending. Unfortunately, that also worked in reverse.

"You're pretty good, Potter," Diggory grunted as he dodged a Stunner. "You've been training this year."

"Of course." Harry rolled out of the way of a Tripping Jinx paired with a Spinning Jinx.

"I'll offer you one last chance to walk away."

"Funny, I was going to offer you the same thing." Dear Merlin, his flip tongue would be the death of him.

"What?"

"I seem to recall that you owe me a favour."

"Do I?"

"How did you know how to prepare for the dragons, Diggory?" It was a longshot, but maybe Harry could prey on the Hufflepuff's innate sense of fairness.

Diggory made a face. "You told me about them."

"That's right. And I don't know that you've done anything for me in return."

"And you want me to forfeit?" Diggory seemed incredulous.

"You've gotten second place. It's not like I'm asking you to drop out entirely."

"There's no glory for second place."

"Now you're talking like a Slytherin."

They exchanged a few more spells.

"This is futile, Diggory. We have the same teachers."

"I know more spells than you. I'm stronger than you."

Harry knew that to be true. "I'm sneakier than you. And you owe me. Would you have gotten past the dragon without knowing about it first?"

"I could have! Besides, it was only fair! Krum and Delacour knew!"

It had been only fair. That was why Harry had done it in the first place. But Diggory didn't need to know that. Besides, while they had been duelling, Harry had been circling around and was now very close to the stone plinth.

"Fair or not, tonight, the prize goes to the Slytherin!"

Harry turned and ran, covering the remaining ten yards in seconds. Diggory, too surprised to react properly, missed with his Disarming Charm.

Harry leaped for the Cup and grasped it with both hands - and felt the unmistakable jerk of a Portkey yank him in to the ether.

to be continued...


	24. The Showdown

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Twenty-Four - The Showdown**

Harry was dumped on to cracked flagstone in a courtyard area. Fighting the urge to spew vomit all over the ground, he stood up and looked around. Tall towers reached for the sky from every corner, a bleak grey stone the colour of a storm. The wall that ran between the towers was spotty with water marks.

With a jolt of fear, Harry tried to point his wand in several directions at once. He was surrounded by figures in tatty, grey robes with long, unkempt hair. They stood in a half-circle, just watching Harry.

Then another figure approached, someone Harry had thought never to see again. His scar began to burn like he was being branded, and agony jabbed in to his mind like a knife. He fought to keep control, to not give in to despair and collapse on the spot with maddening pain.

"Hello. Harry Potter."

It was Peter Pettigrew.

"No," Harry whispered in horror. "You're dead. You're gone. The dementors got you! You don't exist anymore!"

Peter's evil grin sent shivers down Harry's spine. The eyes that Harry had last seen staring intently in to nothingness now contained a cruel intelligence. For just a second, they flashed red.

"Peter Pettigrew is gone, Harry Potter. That is correct. I am someone - else - now."

It was all too creepy. Harry had _ seen_ Peter Pettigrew's soul sucked out by the dementors. He'd witnessed the empty husk be escorted away by Director Bones to- to- somewhere. Harry swallowed hard. Wherever that somewhere was, it wasn't permanent enough.

"Voldemort," Harry named his enemy. There was no one else who would have gone through all this trouble just to gloat.

Pettigrew bowed slightly. "Very good, Harry Potter. It is so pleasing to have an intelligent opponent. It saves me having to explain things."

"Lucky guess," Harry grunted, fear and wrath making his tongue loose despite himself.

"You no doubt wonder how you got here and why I sent for you. Do you require the short version or the long version?"

"Short."

"The Portkey that brought you here was planted by my most faithful servant. As for why I brought you here?" Pettigrew shrugged carelessly. "I brought you here to kill you, Harry Potter."

The circle of Death Eaters laughed in appreciation of the Dark Lord's humour.

_This is bad_, Harry thought. _ I am so dead, I'm so dead! Think! Keep him talking. Ask him questions._

"I've changed my mind. Give me the long version. Why are you in Pettigrew's body?" Harry demanded, interrupting the laughter.

"I was in Albania, following our little encounter three years ago, when I heard the news of the capture of Peter Pettigrew, Death Eater. Naturally, I was quite perplexed, because he had been dead for years, and only I, of course, knew that Wormtail was the true spy in the Order of the Phoenix. When I heard how he'd been found, I said to myself, why did this loyal Death Eater not seek me out? Why did he spend twelve years in hiding? And I answered myself, because he was afraid. He had been the one to betray the Potters, and when I went to kill you, Harry, the Killing Curse rebounded on me. I was naturally quite upset by that."

Anyone would be, Harry thought flippantly. He had to bite his tongue in order to stiffle hysterical laughter that was hiding in the near corners of his mind.

"Wormtail deserved his fate, though I should have liked to have ordered it myself. Following his receipt of the dementors' Kiss, I retreived Wormtail's body from Saint Mungo's and claimed it for myself." The evil wizard paused and tipped his head to one side in apparent contemplation. "In a way, I should like to thank you, Harry. If you hadn't helped bring Wormtail to justice, I never would have been able to get a body so easily." Voldemort's lips twisted in a self-congratulatory manner. "The living body without a soul was perfect for me. Because he had accepted my Mark, this body already belonged to me."

Harry felt like vomiting again. He should have killed Pettigrew with his own hands.

"Now that we are here together, Harry, I have a little proposal for you."

"Sorry, I'm already engaged," Harry quipped. He just could not keep his flip tongue under control.

Volde-Pettigrew chuckled dryly. "I do offer a marriage, of sorts. As I said, I brought you here tonight to kill you, but there's no need for that to be what actually happens. What must I offer you to secure your alliance?"

"My parents back, you murdering sociopath!" Harry practically snarled the words, his hatred suddenly rising in the back of his throat. _Dear Merlin, please give me some way to kill him!_

"Alas," Volde-Pettigrew sighed regretfully, "the first thing you ask of me I cannot do."

"You told me three years ago that you could. So you're a liar, too. But then, I knew that."

"I thought to fool a stupid boy. Clearly, I underestimated you. It's a mistake I won't make again."

"Clearly." He could not resist the sarcastic reply. His wit was about to get him killed. Well, it wouldn't be the ultimate cause, but it certainly would contribute to the amount of pain he endured before it finally ended.

"I can offer you power. Together we can bring about a new order to the world. The masses will worship at our feet."

"I'm not interested in power." Harry had no particular desire to be the mightiest wizard in the world.

"What Slytherin doesn't crave power? I can offer you riches. The wealth of nations could be at your command. Anything you can think of will be presented before you even ask."

"I don't care about money."

"Knowledge? I have learned many of the most arcane secrets. I will teach you all that I know. I can show you how to bring forth the magic of your mind and accomplish feats only dreamed at before. Together we can bend the very fabric of reality. Perhaps we could even leave this plane and explore the cosmos. There could be a dimension where your parents are alive!"

Harry refused to let himself believe in that fantasy. He wasn't really fluent on the theories of alternate dimensions, but he knew that any Lily or James Potters out there would not really be his parents.

"Sorry," he managed to say, sounding mostly normal. "I'm not much of a reader."

Volde-Pettigrew had reached the end of his patience and of his list of potential bribes. Now he grew aggitated. "What do you want, Potter?" he almost screamed.

"I want to kill you," Harry declared calmly, fixing Voldemort with his sternest eye. Professor Snape would be proud. Mr. Malfoy too. He had forgotten the fact that he was only fourteen years old. He had forgotten that the wizard he faced had somehow managed to cling to the material world with arcane secrets both terrible and awesome. All that mattered was that his parents had been murdered by this man and at last Harry could have his chance at vengeance. Though he wasn't ready, though he would most certainly die, this was his chance. He wouldn't waste it.

The most evil wizard in a generation threw back his head and cackled insanely. "So it's revenge, is it, boy? Nothing will satisfy you but to see my blood? Very well then. But know this, Potter! I am immortal! You cannot kill me. I died once, but here I stand before you. Strike me down, and I will rise again even more powerful. I have no rival! No man can be my equal! You will die tonight."

Harry was not afraid. He should have been, but somehow fear's fingers failed to grip his soul. If he were to die, then at least he would go down fighting. He would fall with his wand in his hand. He'd be able to face his mother and father without shame and say he'd done his best to avenge them.

He drew his wand, turning sideways to present a narrower profile. All his training, all his preparations had brought him to this point. He'd triumphed in the tournament; now he had to win in the street. He'd been plucked out of Hogwarts effortlessly, so his enemy was very, very smart. Harry hoped he was just a tiny bit luckier.

"But there is something else that I must do before I dispose of you, Harry." Voldemort rolled back his sleeve to reveal Peter Pettigrew's pale and wasted limb. The grinning skull and snake of the Dark Mark was a vivid red on his skin, and as Voldemort placed the tip of his wand on the Mark, it began to glow green.

"Ah!" Voldemort gasped, but he did not stop, and he seemed to enjoy the feeling. When he finally removed his wand, the tattoo had changed to solid black. He straightened up, threw back his head, and stared around at the dark courtyard.

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Wizards were Apparating in, taking their places, completing the circle. All of the new arrivals were hooded and masked. And one by one they moved forward slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes. Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward Voldemort and kissed the hem of his black robes.

"Master. Master," he murmured.

The Death Eaters behind him did the same; each of them approaching Voldemort on his knees and kissing his robes, before backing away and standing up, rejoining the silent circle which enclosed Harry and Voldemort.

"Welcome, my friends," said Voldemort quietly. "Thirteen years. Thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday. We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we? I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact. Such prompt appearances! And I ask myself, why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"

A shiver ran through the black-robed wizards, as though each of them longed, but did not dare to step back from him. No one spoke. No one moved.

"And I answer myself," whispered Voldemort, "they must have believed me broken. They thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, ignorance, and bewitchment. And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living? And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort. Perhaps they now pay allegiance to another. Perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?"

At the mention of Dumbledore's name, the members of the circle stirred, and some muttered and shook their heads. Voldemort ignored them.

"It is a disappointment to me. I confess myself disappointed."

One of the men suddenly flung himself forward, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he collapsed at Voldemort's feet.

"Master!" he shrieked, "Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!"

Voldemort began to laugh, but there was no humour in it. It was a cruel, mocking sound. He raised his wand.

"_Crucio!_"

The Death Eater on the ground writhed and shrieked. It was awful, worse than when Professor Moody had done it to the spider. Harry forced himself to watch. _This is what he does to those who serve him when they displease him. He is a monster. I don't even think he's sane._

Voldemort lowered his wand. The tortured Death Eater lay flat upon the ground, gasping.

"Get up, Avery," said Voldemort softly. "Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years. I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you."

Avery crawled back gingerly and struggled to his feet.

Voldemort began to walk around the circle. Harry followed him with his wand, expecting something tricky. Voldemort ignored him, seeming lost in recollections. Some of the Death Eaters he passed in silence, but he paused before others and spoke to them.

"Macnair. Destroying dangerous beasts for the Ministry of Magic now? You shall have better victims than that soon, Macnair. Lord Voldemort will provide."

"Thank you, Master. Thank you," murmured Macnair.

"And here," Voldemort moved on to the two largest hooded figures, "we have Crabbe. You will do better this time, will you not, Crabbe? And you, Goyle?"

They bowed clumsily, muttering dully.

"Yes, Master."

"We will, Master."

"The same goes for you, Nott," said Voldemort quietly as he walked past a stooped figure in Mr. Goyle's shadow.

Nott answered, "My Lord, I prostrate myself before you. I am your most faithful scholar. I have reams of findings for you. My number theory is paramount in all the high circles."

"Lucius, my slippery friend," Voldemort whispered, halting before him. "Tell me why with all your wealth and power you could not direct your energies toward finding and aiding your master?"

"My Lord, I was constantly on the alert," came Lucius Malfoy's voice swiftly from beneath the hood. "Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately. Nothing could have prevented me-"

"You did not serve me as well as the Lestranges did!" Voldemort interrupted. Three of the grey-robed figures stirred. "They alone tried to find me! They alone kept fighting after I had fallen! They were sent _here_, to Azkaban, so strongly do they believe in our cause! _Crucio!_"

Mr. Malfoy's mask fell off as he twitched and wiggled and flopped on the ground.

Harry wanted to be sick. It had been a lie. Everything Mr. Malfoy had ever said to him had been a twisted manipulation. He hadn't reformed. He'd only been acting at a role for nefarious purpose. Sirius had been right about him. He'd answered his master's call quickly, and he'd crawled forward to kiss the hem of his robes. So had Mr. Nott, Mr. Crabbe, and Mr. Goyle; men he knew, men he'd shaken hands with, men whose houses he'd been in. Sirius had been right about them all.

And his friends! He couldn't trust any of them anymore. Draco, Tim, Crabbe, Goyle, they were all out. All he had left were the ladies, and given how well-connected Lucius Malfoy was, he didn't want to take bets on them right now either.

Of course he could deal with that if he got out of this alive.

"Bellatrix!"

"My Lord," came a woman's voice, filled with reverence, as she bowed deeply.

"Rodolphus and Rabastan!" the Dark Lord called out.

"My Lord."

"You shall be the core of my inner circle. Lord Voldemort rewards his faithful."

"We are honoured, my Lord," Bellatrix said with another bow.

"Lucius, I will have need of your riches and contacts."

"They are at your command," Mr. Malfoy said with a deeper bow.

"Nearly everyone is accounted for," Voldemort mused, looking at the gap in the circle as though he could see people standing there. "And here we have six missing Death Eaters; three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return. He will pay the price of apostacy. One, who I believe has left me forever. He will be killed, of course. One who remains my most faithful servant and who has already reentered my service. The last serves me well at Hogwarts tonight."

The Death Eaters stirred, and Harry saw their eyes dart sideways at one another through their masks.

"And now we come to the entertainment portion of the evening. Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my coming out party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honour."

There was a chuckle of laughter, though Voldemort had made no joke.

"You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?" Voldemort said softly, his red eyes upon Harry, whose scar began to burn so fiercely that he almost screamed in agony. "You all know that when I tried to kill him, my powers were undone, but you ask yourselves why? And I answer you, his mother unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen. His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice. This is old magic. I should have remembered it; I was foolish to overlook it. Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic to ensure the boy's protection as long as he is in his relations' care. And so for thirteen years, his mother's love has protected him. It was what destroyed Quirrell's body when I had possessed him. For months I turned the problem round and round. How to circumvent the protection of the blood, the dirty, common blood of an ignorant Muggleborn. I had plans, horribly complicated plans. And then the universe granted me a boon of unprecedented magnitude. Harry Potter left the place he called home. He renounced claim to the house of his Muggle aunt. He lost the protection his mother's death had given him. He was vulnerable."

Harry's blood ran cold. He had known about his mother's sacrifice, her willingness to die to protect him. But he'd thought it stuck with him, in his blood. It had all hung on Aunt Petunia? She had enabled some sort of protections through _her_ blood? Why hadn't Dumbledore told him? He had told Harry about Lily Potter's love. Would it have been so hard to just explain that he was still safe only while he stayed at Privet Drive. Only a year ago Dumbledore had been trying to persuade Harry to return to Number 4. Why hadn't he said anything about endangering the protection?

"This boy has no special power! He is not stronger than I. He escaped me once before through luck and chance. Those things are finite. Lord Voldemort is eternal. The boy dies tonight, lest wagging tongues perpetuate these lies. There is no Dumbledore to help him, no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger."

This was it. He was about to die. _ Sorry, Padma_, he thought. _Sorry, Draco. Sorry, Pansy. Sorry, Jenna. I hope somehow you hear about this. I hope you know I went down fighting. I hope you find it in yourselves to fight too._

Voldemort moved slowly forward and turned to face Harry. He raised his wand.

_I'm sorry, Sirius! I'm sorry, Dad! I'm sorry, Mum!_

"_Crucio!_"

Harry threw himself out of the way and rolled towards the edge of the circle. One of the Death Eaters stepped towards him.

"Leave him! He is mine!" Voldemort shouted.

The Death Eater ignored the command and grabbed on to Harry tightly. "Malfoy Manor may be found at One, High Street, Wiltshire," Mr. Malfoy whispered.

With a slight _pop!_, they vanished.

They crashed back in to reality at the courtyard of Malfoy Manor. Mr. Malfoy wasted no time at all, dragging Harry along in to the house.

Mr. Malfoy waved his wand in every direction. Doors and shutters clattered shut. Mechanical locks engaged with loud thunks and bangs. Magical symbols began to glow on the panels, throwing everything in to sharp relief.

"Narcissa!" Mr. Malfoy shouted. "Come to the sitting room immediately!"

With a pop of Apparition, Mrs. Malfoy appeared in the foyer beside her husband. She was wearing pyjamas that made Harry turn his eyes away in embarrassment.

"What is it, Lucius? Are we under siege?" She waved her wand, Summoning clothes from her closets. She dressed as Mr. Malfoy began to speak.

"The Dark Lord _has_ returned. The day we have feared is come. We must think," Mr. Malfoy said. He sounded extremely frazzled, which was a marked difference from his customary smooth, urbane tones. "He has taken Azkaban, and the dementors now serve him. The Ministry cannot ignore this. I will not let them. We are at war."

"Did you see Bellatrix?" Mrs. Malfoy's quiet question sounded like she would rather not know.

"I did. She, Rodolphus, and Rabastan comprise his inner circle. He spoke of a faithful servant at Hogwarts, by which I assume he means-"

Mr. Malfoy broke off, glancing at Harry, who was still amazed to be alive.

"You stole Harry from under his nose?"

"I did."

"How brave of you, Lucius."

"How foolish. He will be here in moments. Our defences will keep him at bay for a time, and I dearly hope he is not at the full strength of his powers, but we must run."

"Where will we go?" Mrs. Malfoy looked very poised now that she was awake and dressed. Her hair had been braided and woven back on itself, exposing her neck.

Mr. Malfoy's lips twisted in a grimace. "It's so very ironic," he said softly. "We must go to Hogwarts. We must go to Albus Dumbledore."

Harry latched on to the word "Hogwarts" as it passed through his consciousness. Hogwarts was where Sirius was. Harry wanted his godfather, more than he had after being entered in the Triwizard Tournament, more than after learning it was dragons in the first task.

"Sirius!"

"Sirius is at Hogwarts. We'll go to him now, Harry."

They entered the Floo, emerging from the fireplace in the empty Three Broomsticks. As fast as they could, they ran for the crowd of spectators gathered to watch the final Task.

"Here, you can't come running in like that," one official-looking fellow objected.

"School governors do as they like on school grounds!" Mr. Malfoy retorted, shoving past the suddenly deferential man.

The crowd parted, and the three emerged in to the staging area for the Task. Professor Dumbledore stood there with Madame Maxime and Percy Weasley. Neither Karkaroff nor Mr. Bagman was anywhere to be seen. Cedric and his father, Fleur, Krum, Professor Snape, and Sirius were waiting as well.

"Sirius!" Harry cried as he ran forward.

His godfather's arms wrapped around him broke through the block Harry's felt holding back his emotions. He was terrified. He'd nearly died tonight. He clung to Sirius, taking comfort in his strength and soothing words.

When Harry had calmed, Sirius looked up at Mr. Malfoy. "I think some explaining is in order, Lucius."

"It is. Dumbledore, may we use your office?"

"I'm sure this will be most enlightening, Lucius." The headmaster turned to Madame Maxime. "Though Harry did not bring back the Cup, I think we can agree that he finished the maze first. Wouldn't you agree, Olympe?"

Madame Maxime put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and escorted her from the area without a word.

"Shall I make the announcement, Professor?"

"Certainly, Percy."

The Head of International Magical Cooperation amplified his voice. "After a period of waiting, our fourth champion has found his way back to us. The judges have determined the winner to be Harry Potter of Hogwarts!"

The crowd went bananas. Slytherins cheered as one of their own became the youngest winner of the Triwizard Tournament ever in history.

"Mister Potter wins the prize, one thousand Galleons! Don't spend it all in one place. Thank you all for coming and helping to make the tournament a success. Good night!"

The crowd began to disperse. Students streamed back to the castle while guests headed for Hogsmeade where both Apparition and Floo would be available.

Remus broke free from the masses and hurried over. "Harry, thank goodness you're safe."

"Remus, good," Dumbledore said. "Please come with us to my office."

"Am I in trouble, Headmaster?"

"We may all be in trouble."

Draco was hot on Remus' heels.

"Harry, well done!" His best mate was properly enthusiastic.

"There's way more going on here, Draco."

"Trouble?"

"The worst kind."

Draco began to chew his lip. Not a lot bothered Draco. He was impossible to intimidate; he'd mouthed off to a sixth-year Gryffindor prefect as a second-year. That he was showing such a twitch meant he must be very shaken up.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything? Should I get Padma?"

"No need, Draco," Padma said, approaching. "I'm already here."

She greeted Harry with a kiss and a squeeze. "I was worried. When you didn't come back, I thought the worst. They all sent up red sparks and were brought out from the centre of the maze, but there was no Cup, and no Harry. What happened?"

"We'll get to that."

Sirius held up a hand. "Padma, we have very important things to discuss with the Headmaster. I'm sure Harry will fill you in later. For now, I must ask you to excuse us."

Padma didn't like that she was being excluded. As Harry's girlfriend, she understandably expected to have total access to him at all times, especially now when there was a crisis on. Harry kissed her gently.

"I'll come find you first thing in the morning. I'll tell you everything. Your favourite study spot?"

"Fine."

Harry got many congratulations as they made their way up the path to the castle. From what he gathered, the party being planned in the Slytherin common room would be completely out of control. He wished he was in any sort of mood to enjoy it.

In the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore sat behind his very large desk. Sirius and Harry sat together to one side; the Malfoys at the other. Professor Snape took a chair in the corner. Remus stood by the door.

Dumbledore began to speak. "The last any of us saw Harry, he was walking in to the maze. According to Mister Diggory, he was the first to touch the Triwizard Cup and he disappeared. He should have appeared back at the starting ground. Could the Portkey have gone awry? Ludo had planted it himself and swore to its function. Then you return to us, Harry, with Mister Malfoy in tow. Please tell us what happened."

Harry shivered. He didn't want to think about how close he had come to death. He appealed to Mr. Malfoy with a glance.

"He has returned," Mr. Malfoy said simply.

All of the blood drained from Sirius' face. "Voldemort?"

Mr. Malfoy flinched at the name. "Yes. Tonight he has taken Azkaban. The dementors and all the Death Eaters are with him."

"And how do you know this, Lucius?" Sirius asked pointedly.

Wordlessly, Mr. Malfoy rolled back his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark, throbbing and writhing on his skin.

"Do you know what this is? It is a brand of ownership, a mark signifying property. A short time ago, I felt the call of my old Master for the first time in thirteen years. It was just as I remember it in my nightmares. With dread in the pit of my stomach, I answered it, and I found myself in the courtyard at Azkaban. The fighting, if there was any at all, was already over. The stationed Aurors were dead. Those of his devoted followers he had freed were waiting for us."

"Did he explain how he managed to return?" Dumbledore asked intently. "It could be very important how he created himself a body."

"He had no need to create anything. The body already belonged to him. The Dark Lord's spirit now inhabits the former body of Peter Pettigrew."

"Peter!" Sirius half-shouted.

Dumbledore now looked to Snape. "If he simply claimed Peter's body, that would explain why your Mark returned in such force and so suddenly, Severus."

Wait, what? Professor Snape's Mark? Harry exchanged shocked glances with Draco. Had Snape been a Death Eater? Voldemort had spoken of a faithful servant at Hogwarts.

"It would indeed. What we suspected to be an indicator of his gathering strength in fact augured his full return to this plane."

"This is most serious," Dumbledore mused. He looked with a wondering eye at the Malfoys. "And what say you, Lucius? I must confess, I never thought to hear of Voldemort's return from you."

"Once he had called us all back, he was going to kill Harry in front of us to prove that he was the mightier wizard. Harry dodged a Cruciatus Curse and rolled towards me. I put my hands on him, and we Disapparated."

"He knows you betrayed him."

Mr. Malfoy laughed bitterly. "Oh, I'd be surprised if Malfoy Manor isn't in flames by now. I've been upgrading our defences ever since my dear cousin broke out of Azkaban," he said with a nod towards Sirius, "and when I felt the Dark Mark return, I placed my home under the Fidelius Charm. But because of the Mark, I do not know how safe we truly are. That is why we came here."

"Did you have nobody you could trust, Lucius?" Dumbledore asked with a hint of sadness in his voice. "No friend, no relation?"

"Narcissa thought it should be her, but I would not place her in danger. I can live with my own pain. I cannot bear hers. It is because of my love for her that I come to you now. Alone, we will die. You opposed him during the last war. I offer you my help in this one. My life is forfeit. The lives of my family as well, unless he is defeated. If I had gone along quietly, it would be only a matter of time before he demanded that I turn over Harry to him. My son's best friend? A boy who has eaten from my table and been a guest in my home? I could not betray such a trust. No Malfoy could ever live down the shame. Such a dark deed would stain our name forever. Say what you will about me - and I know you do - but Malfoys have their pride. Though it could bring us down, today it lifts us up. We will fight against him, Dumbledore, because we have no other choice."

"An unwilling ally-" Sirius began.

"But an ally nonetheless," Dumbledore finished. "It was said by the wise man that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Lucius, you wish to help defeat Voldemort?"

Though he shivered at the forbidden name, Mr. Malfoy nodded. "With all of my resources."

"Then I welcome you to the fight. We are glad to have you. Tell us more."

"He made a rather long speech going on about how and why Harry's blood protections had been broken."

"Can you tell me everything he said?" Dumbledore asked quickly.

"It was confusing, I confess, because I do not know the magic he spoke of. The Dark Lord said that the protection Lily Potter gave to Harry by sacrificing herself in his place lingered only so long as he lived with Lily Potter's sister, by reason of her blood connection. It was that protection that destroyed poor Quirrenius. I realize now that this was your reason for why you constantly refused to allow me to take Harry away from his Muggle relations. There were better ways to protect him, Dumbledore. I believe those Dursleys are the worst sort of Muggles and need a thorough killing."

"Your beliefs are disgusting," Sirius fired off hotly. "You're not saying you disagree with Voldemort, just that you want to be free of him.

"Don't all rational wizards want to be free of him?" Mr. Malfoy asked in mock astonishment. "And don't your friends want to prevent his doing harm to Muggles?

"You hate Muggles!"

"And with cause. How many Muggles do you know, Cousin? Ask Harry what Muggles are like."

"Those pigs are not typical Muggles!" Sirius shouted defiantly. "How many times have I heard the word Mudblood from a pureblooded mouth? Your opinions about blood make me want to vomit all over your shoes."

"I have always advocated the superiority of _wizards_, Sirius," Mr. Malfoy stressed. "All the magical lines started somewhere. Mine goes back to five hundred fifty Ano Domini, and yours reaches to three hundred if I recall. Those wizards came from somewhere. It still happens to this day and is no less a cause for celebration. More wizards and witches is a good thing.

"The problem is the Muggles. Their society and culture is barbaric, and under the recent way of thinking, new wizards had eleven years of exposure to that corrupting influence. With the passage of the law, named for your godson I might add, we welcome Mud-ggleborns into our world immediately. Now there's no need to mistrust them, because they can be taught properly from the very beginning."

"Taught their place?"

Mr. Malfoy turned Sirius a cool stare. "We know more and they less. Who should be in the position of responsibility?"

Try though he might, Sirius couldn't seem to answer that. He struggled mightily with it, but under Mr. Malfoy's withering expression, he finally coughed and turned away to stare out the door into the hall.

"You're a snake," he finally said in a normal tone of voice. "I just thought you should know that."

Mr. Malfoy smiled in surprise. "Thank you, Cousin Sirius."

"Don't remind me," Sirius said sourly. "I still don't like you."

"But we are family, Sirius. These are new times, and the old lines have shifted. Some have merged; some have diverged. We are on the same side now, Harry's side. You should be grateful I've seen the truth resplendent, not looking for any excuse to break Harry's trust in me."

"Lucius, no doubt you already know what I require of you," Dumbledore interjected.

"I am to use my influence in the government to support our agenda. You will want people to be warned about his return, and that can't happen without Fudge's support. I will lean on him. He depends on me for his reelection. I have many friends in the Wizengamot."

"If you can sway even one of them, it will help immensely. People will not want to believe this."

"We must alert the media. Get the Daily Prophet and the Wizards Broadcast Corporation talking about his attack on Azkaban before they can be silenced. I have a friend who has been known to sell an article from time to time. Harry's account will make headlines."

"I never thought to be grateful for the talents of Rita Skeeter," Dumbledore muttered. "Will she do it?"

"She is quite fond of Harry, as I believe you know."

"Of course, of course. Very well. Set up a meeting with Fudge as soon as possible. We'll need to convince him to reach out to those whom Voldemort will likely recruit. Even if they can't be persuaded to fight against him, perhaps they will at least stay neutral."

"The giants, the vampires, and so on."

"You would know just as well if not better than I."

"I will use all of my eloquence. I make no promises, but either Fudge or his replacement will take this seriously."

"Good. Keep me informed."

"I will go to the Ministry at once. Have a room in the staff wing prepared. We shall need a place to live." Mr. Malfoy stood and embraced his wife. "I will find Elan and tell him to come here. He is vulnerable, and he doesn't know yet that he is in danger."

Mrs. Malfoy nodded her head. She looked worried, but she wasn't carrying on. Things were too serious for any kind of hysterics.

Mr. Malfoy turned to his son. With great reserve, he took stock of the boy who was very close to thinking he was a man. That boy looked back at his father with cool confidence. The reckless braggart that Harry's best mate could some times (most times) be was nowhere to be seen.

"Draco."

"Father."

"You will remain in this castle until further notice. Do not defy me on this, I implore you."

"Of course not."

"Listen to the Headmaster. I will contact you when I return."

"I will be waiting."

"Escort me to the gate. I would say my farewells in private."

The heavy door closed gently behind the Malfoys.

"What is important is what his next move will be," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "We must prepare to respond and also position ourselves positively. Severus?"

Harry had forgotten all about Snape, who sat in the corner observing all that had gone on.

"Yes, Albus?"

"If you can, you must penetrate his secrets. You are the best operative I ever had in his ranks. I need you."

"I swear, it will be done." Snape rose, leaned down, and whispered in Harry's ear, "We will speak soon. Keep this secret." He left.

"Sirius, Remus, you must alert the old crowd."

"Remus can do it himself. I'm not leaving Harry alone. I doubt you want him coming with us."

"Sirius, I need your help."

"Harry needs me. Can you say anything that is going to make me forget that?"

"You can help Harry by helping me."

"Don't do that, Albus. I will not let you use my godson against me. He needs protecting, and I trust no other to see to it." Sirius' temper was flaring; Harry could see it plainly. He felt a small thrill in his heart that his godfather was willing to defy the Headmaster, widely regarded as the mightiest wizard of the age, because of his love for Harry.

"I plan to reinvigorate the castle's defences tonight. Professor Moody has also made a number of suggestions for tightening up security. Perhaps it's time to implement them. Remember, Voldemort never dared to strike here."

"But he has no problems sending his minions in to wreck havoc," Sirius replied scornfully. "You may be strong, Albus, but your thinking has gotten a bit fuzzy. Harry, it's time for us to go home."

"Is that really neccessary, Sirius?" Dumbledore asked. "It's rather drastic, wouldn't you say?"

"Not at all. It's not safe here, Albus. You're starting to slip, old boy."

"There was nothing you could have done either, Sirius. Harry is safest here in the walls of this castle."

"Should I really run down the list of dangers Harry has faced within these walls? Dementors, to start with."

Dumbledore sighed. He looked very old suddenly. "Very well. Remus, it is up to you to approach the old crowd. You know the ones. Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher, and all the rest."

"Certainly."

"Good," Sirius said, standing up.

Harry wanted to stay near Sirius. His godfather's protective aura comforted him. At the same time, he didn't want to leave school now. He needed to tell his friends what had happened and find out if they were still his friends. They'd all said to him that they would never become Death Eaters, but talk was cheap while the Dark Lord was gone. Now that he was back, surely one or more of them would be having second thoughts, particularly given that a number of fathers had answered his call.

"Sirius," Harry said softly.

His godfather's demeanour shifted instantly from mild belligerance to anxious concern. "Yes, Harry?"

"I should stay. I saw Mister Nott there tonight. Crabbe and Goyle's dads too. I want to be the one to tell them. Maybe there's a chance I can convince them to do the right thing. Maybe they can convince their dads to abandon Voldemort as well."

Remus cleared his throat. Harry had forgotten he was here too; he said barely a word so far. "I think we all need to take a moment to focus on Harry. You've all been talking far above his head. Look at him. Sirius, look at him. He's in shock. He was nearly done in tonight by the same tosser who murdered James and Lily!"

His old teacher knelt down and looked right in to Harry's face. "Are you okay, Harry? Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry felt so disconnected by everything that had gone on tonight. How could he connect words when he couldn't even formulate his thoughts? "Did you just call Voldemort a tosser?"

Remus cracked a grin. "Yes, I guess I did."

"That's hysterical." He would laugh later.

Sirius wasn't laughing either. He was now looking intently at Harry.

"Are you okay, Harry? Do you need Madam Pomfrey?"

"I think I just want to go to bed. Please don't make me leave school."

Sirius seemed conflicted. "We'll talk about it in the morning. I'll meet you outside the Great Hall after breakfast. Do you want me to walk you down to the common room?"

"It's a secret."

"Rubbish," Sirius said with a snort.

"I'll be okay. They're going to want to celebrate."

"Sure you don't want me to come?"

"Yeah. Good night."

Harry hugged Sirius and Remus and left the Headmaster's Office. He took his time to descend to the dungeons and the Slytherin common room where everybody was waiting for him.

The music was loud, the atmosphere was charged, and Harry was the centre of attention. It was overwhelming, but nobody would let him leave. He caught Draco's attention and gave a slight shake of his head. He didn't want to bring up his terror, his fear. He wasn't quite ready to spill his guts for the whole house to see, so he shoved all of his dark thoughts deep inside.

Pretend everything was fine. Never let 'em see you sweat. Harry plastered a smile on his face a mile wide. He should be ecstatic at making even more history. So he faked it. He told stories about fearsome creatures and mighty magics, of enigmas, of puzzles, and of the great duel at the last. Everyone was suitably impressed.

When they finally let him rest, his throat was parched and his eyes drowsy. In the dorm, he wearily pulled off his dirty clothing and laid down his head, asleep as soon as he touched the pillow.

to be continued...


	25. Battle Lines

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Twenty-Five - Battle Lines**

Harry and Draco were both awake early. They exchanged salutations, but then they showered, dressed, and walked out to the common room in wordless companionship.

"Are you going to say anything?" Draco inquired at last. He'd been giving Harry lots of sideways glances, seemingly gauging Harry's mood and temper. He'd opened his mouth a dozen times but shut it each time without making a sound. Now he had apparently summoned up the courage to break the silence.

"About what?" Harry knew this moment had been coming, but maybe he could put it off for a little while longer.

"Him. Last night. Everything. Anything." Draco lifted his hands helplessly. "You haven't said a word all morning. Are you okay?"

Harry sighed. Draco would clearly not be put off. "I'm pretty far from okay, mate. I should be dead right now. I still don't really accept that I'm still alive. The Triwizard Cup was a Portkey. It was supposed to bring me out of the Maze. It brought me to Azkaban. Voldemort was there."

Draco flinched at the name.

"His spirit is in Pettigrew's body now. That's my fault. I should have killed him myself." Harry paused, last night's events playing again in his mind. "He thanked me, you know. I think that was the worst part. He prattled on, but I couldn't really pay attention. I was waiting for him to kill me. That sort of preoccupied me."

"Understandable."

"He had freed all the Death Eaters in Azkaban. He called all the rest. Tim's dad was there. Mister Goyle and Mister Crabbe too. He tortured one he called Avery. He recognized three people named Lestrange."

"Aunt Bellatrix," Draco added quietly.

"Yeah. Then he started giving a speech about how important he was and how insignificant I am. When he was done with his monologue, he threw a Cruciatus at me. I rolled out of the way, and then your dad Apparated us out of there."

"How anti-climactic."

"For Voldemort, yeah. He was going to make it really painful and draw everything out."

"He loves to make people suffer. Dad's told me."

Harry shivered. "I can keep waiting to experience that."

Draco was quiet for a moment, and he appeared deep in thought. "So now what?" he finally asked.

"I don't know, Draco. I don't know. I hope Sirius does. He's supposed to meet me after breakfast."

"Aren't you supposed to meet Padma?"

"Yeah."

"Going to tell her?"

"Yeah."

"I wonder how she'll take it."

"You and me both."

"When are you going to tell the others?"

"I don't know."

"I wonder how Tim's going to react."

"I don't know that either, Draco."

"You want me to talk to Crabbe and Goyle? I can probably convince them to see the light."

"No, I'll do it. I'd like you there, though."

"Very good. I should probably let you talk to Tim on your own."

Harry knew that to be true. "Yeah, you tend to irritate him."

"He irritates me. What about the girls?"

"Pansy would probably sign up with Voldemort just to spite you. I should talk to her. Alone. I'm not worried about Jenna or Millie. I just need to get to Pansy, and they'll follow her lead."

"Right. Blaise?"

Harry had spent all year trying to discourage Blaise's feelings for him. Now he couldn't be more grateful for them. He knew exactly where Blaise stood.

"Blaise is all right."

"Probably, yes. And the others?"

There lay the question. Who were the rest of the Death Eaters? How many of them were related to his fellow Slytherins? There were bound to be a few students in the other houses with Dark ties, but a great many came from Slytherin. It was an unpleasant truth that Harry now had to confront directly.

"I think Laine can control the youngers."

"Can you trust Laine?"

That thought gave Harry chills. She liked Harry, so much so that she'd volunteered to be his public relations expert. But he knew nothing of her father. Mr. Malfoy spoke quite highly of Mr. Slater, which was significant all on its own. The Slaters were very well-connected, which was why Laine had so much influence.

"We'll have to see."

"You know she's got a wicked crush on you, right?"

Harry flushed. "Yeah, I know."

Draco started to needle him, but Pansy and Jenna emerged from the dorm. Draco pulled Jenna aside, leaving Harry and Pansy alone. They sat on the couch by the fireplace, where the wood was just starting to really burn.

"Pansy, we're good friends, right?"

"You know we are, Harry."

"And if I needed you, you'd drop everything, right?"

"Harry, you're starting to make me nervous. What's wrong? Why are you asking these questions?"

"Right?"

"Yes. Yes, you're my friend, and I'll help you in any way I can. Now please tell me."

Harry took a deep breath. "Something happened last night. You remember how I didn't come straight back after grabbing the Triwizard Cup?"

"Yes, of course. There was a great deal of confusion about it. Mister Bagman swore the Portkey he'd had made was perfect. He went to go check the paperwork, but he never came back. Where did it take you?"

"Brace yourself. Azkaban."

"What?" Pansy shrieked. Harry winced as his eardrums were shot through.

"It was right after Voldemort made his attack." She cringed as he said the verboten name. "He tried to kill me."

"Thank Merlin you survived."

"Mister Malfoy, more like."

"What?"

"Mister Malfoy saved me. He was one of the people who answered when Voldemort called."

"Then it was true all along."

"No, he's turned away. He Side-Along Apparated me out of there and brought me back to Hogwarts."

"Oh my stars," Pansy gasped.

"But that's all aside. I've always known he'd come back some day. That day has come. Now I'm going to destroy him, and I want to know who's going to be with me."

"You want _me_ to stand with you?" Pansy could not sound more astonished. "I can't fight. I can barely do a decent Banishing Charm."

"That doesn't mean you can't be play a part. You're a very influential witch."

"Thank you."

"And you can help me by using that influence."

"They won't be able to shut me up," Pansy promised. "I'll speak to Jenna and Millie as well. Blaise will jump as soon as you tell her. How hard do you want me to jump up and down on Tim?"

"What makes you think that'll be neccessary?"

"I know things, Harry. Never forget that I am a font of knowledge."

"Gossip, you mean."

"Same thing. I knew about Mister Malfoy. I know about Mister Nott too."

"I don't want to be on opposite sides from Tim. He's a decent bloke, and his dad was nice to me."

"Tim is a trollish, uncouth, smelly pouch of rotting potions ingredients. Mister Nott is a scholar. His knowledge could be a threat to you."

Harry hadn't considered that.

"I'll talk to Tim. I'll get back to you on that."

"I've got to talk to Jenna."

Pansy whispered furiously in to Jenna's ear for a moment. The blonde girl's eyes got wider and wider. With a sob, she covered the few steps to Harry and wrapped her arms around him.

"We nearly lost you?" she choked out.

_Well_, he thought, _that answers the question about her_.

"But we didn't. And now we figure out how to fight back."

**AZKABAN FALLS!**

by Rita Skeeter

The wizarding world was rocked last night as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named announced his return with a raid on the prison island of Azkaban.

Yes, loyal readers, you read correctly. This is no warped joke. The island prison has fallen, and the dementors now serve You-Know-Who. These disgusting creatures now stand side by side with the former inmates they once guarded. Now the towers and walls are meant to keep people out.

Details are scarce at this time, and the fate of the Aurors stationed at Azkaban is presently unknown. They did manage to contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and confirm their attacker, who is reported to have used the Sonorus Charm to demand the surrender of the fortress.

Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge appeared with Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, to assure the public that the Ministry is well-prepared for the coming struggle. "He has spent fourteen years in hiding. He is only now strong enough to show his face to the world again. We remember the lessons of the last war. He will not succeed so easily at his old tricks. We stand united and we will fight!"

Fudge's brave words were echoed by Director Amelia Bones, Head of Magical Law Enforcement. "We were taken by surprise. Nobody could have anticipated that he would seduce the dementors. He won't hold Azkaban for long. We'll get him."

All sane people know that the return of the Dark Lord will turn our world to chaos. In the name of civilization, this journalist implores you all to resist despair, to fight back against the darkness, and to find the light within ourselves to drive away the shadows. May Merlin keep us all safe.

Harry put down the paper with a sigh of relief. There it was in black and white for the whole world to see. Thankfully, Harry's name had been kept out of it entirely. It was all official from the Ministry.

Breakfast was an uncomfortable affair. The headline had everyone buzzing. All the talk of "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" invariably involved a glance or two over at Harry. Draco sat at Harry's right. Jenna and Pansy sat across from them. They didn't talk about the headline. They just glared down anyone they caught staring. Nobody was rude enough to bring up the subject directly to Harry, but it was easy to whisper and point.

Harry pushed away his half-eaten plate and stood up. Draco, Pansy, and Jenna all did likewise, even though Draco had been lifting a forkful of eggs to his mouth. His three friends looked to him. Harry led them out of the Great Hall.

Sirius was waiting for Harry outside the Great Hall. Harry turned to his friends. "I'll catch up with you later. We've got plans to make."

The trio headed down to the dungeons.

"How was breakfast?" Sirius asked.

"Fine. I wasn't hungry."

Sirius nodded. "I understand. Just don't let it go too long, okay, Harry? You need to eat."

"I know. I will."

"Did you sleep?"

"Yeah, but not well. Bad dreams."

"Want to talk about it?"

"I kept seeing Voldemort. He was happy. Really happy. Gleeful, almost. He was so happy to have a body again, he didn't even care that I'd gotten away."

"He was probably celebrating his victory."

Harry frowned. "It was a victory, wasn't it?"

"Not total. But yes, he scored a major win last night. I intend it to be his only one."

"How?"

"Time enough to worry about that later. Have you told your friends yet?"

"Only Draco, Pansy, and Jenna."

"Not the rest?"

"No. I don't know how I'm going to say it."

"Don't dance. Just say what's on your mind. If they're really your friends, that will be enough."

"I'm worried. Tim's dad was there. Crabbe's and Goyle's too."

"You think they might turn on you?"

"Before this year, I would have said no way. But Tim's been going his own way for quite awhile now. I honestly have no idea which way he'll go."

"That's unfortunate. What about Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Well they usually stick with Draco, you know? But against their dads? I don't know either of their dads very well at all. Mister Goyle seems to like me, but I don't know how that'll stack up against Voldemort."

"That is troubling. Can you handle them? If it comes to it, I mean?"

"Not physically." Harry had been working out several times a week for more than a year now, but so had the two behemoths. They'd wipe the floor with him. "Goyle's pretty handy at Charms, but I'm better at Curses. All Crabbe's good at is Astronomy."

"Watch your back, Harry."

"I will. Draco will watch too."

"I'm sure."

"Are you satisfied now? Has Mister Malfoy proved himself yet? Are you going to give him a chance finally?"

"I was waiting for action to give his fancy words some meaning. Well I got it. He couldn't have been more clear in his intentions. We still disagree on a great many things, but I can see now that he is serious."

"You're Sirius."

"Stop that. Lucius appears to have been telling the truth. If he really is on our side, then I'll have him. I now have a small amount of trust in him, but I will still be watching. Make no mistake."

"Thank you, Sirius. I'm glad to hear that."

"So what are your plans today? Feel like escaping from here and going for a run around the lake?"

Run? Oh, Sirius meant in their other forms. More practice at maintaining his Animagus transformation.

"I can't. I'd love to, but I'm supposed to meet Padma after breakfast. I've got to tell her everything."

"Everything? Is that wise? Are you planning to tell everyone?"

"No, only people who need to know. And yes, everything. Well, most everything. Everything important anyway. I don't think she really needs to know about Mister Malfoy, do you?"

From his face, Sirius privately did believe that everyone ought to be warned about Mr. Malfoy, but he shook his head in the negative. "No, probably not. I can't see how it would help. Tell Padma I said hello."

"I will."

They embraced fiercely, and Sirius waited until Harry had climbed the stairs out of sight before heading out the front door.

Harry headed for the library. They were going to meet in her favourite study and snog spot. She wasn't there yet. He sat in the chair and leaned back. He was so tired. He hadn't been able to sleep last night. He kept reliving the scene in the Azkaban courtyard in his nightmares and waking up shaking. He closed his eyes - just for a moment.

"Harry?" came a voice from a long way away. "Wake up, sleepyhead."

Harry struggled to open his heavy eyelids. Blearily, he saw Padma standing there, and he smiled up at her.

"Hi, beautiful. You got here fast."

"Not really. It's nearly ten."

"How about that."

Padma giggled. "You're silly when you're tired."

"Bad dreams."

"Of what?"

"Last night, things didn't go as planned."

"Right. The Portkey was improperly made and sent you off-track."

"No."

"No?"

"Did you read the paper this morning?"

"Yes. What horrible news."

"The Portkey took me to Azkaban."

"No!" she gasped.

"Yes," he replied grimly. "I barely escaped with my life."

"Tell me everything."

"The Cup was a Portkey, but it was a trap. I landed in the courtyard at Azkaban where I found out Voldemort's spirit-" she flinched "-has taken up residence in the body of Peter Pettigrew."

"The man who betrayed your parents?"

"The same. It was a living body without a soul, and since Peter had taken the Dark Mark, Voldemort-" she flinched again "-just took up residence. He explained everything. He talked a lot, actually. He seems to have a flair for showmanship. He called all his Death Eaters back and talked about how he had been defeated by old magic, but it was only a temporary setback and he was back for good now."

Harry began to shiver. "The Death Eaters stood in a circle around us. He pointed his wand at me. I was going to die. I wanted to die bravely, so I raised my wand too. I was going to fight back."

The trembling grew more pronounced. Padma wrapped her arms around him. She was very warm. He clung to her, trying not to cry. Even remembering this terror was awful.

"He cast the Cruciatus Curse. I rolled out of the way. Just like Moody taught us, the best way to block a spell is not get hit by it. Well I happened to sprawl near the Triwizard Cup, so I grabbed for it, and it brought me back to Hogwarts."

Harry was already weary of the story, but he knew he would have to tell it many more times. Maybe it would get easier with each telling.

Padma continued to hold him close, and Harry rested his head on hers. She was so warm. When they were cuddled up like this, he always felt very content. She was comforting.

They stayed there for nearly an hour. Harry didn't say much else. He was still trying to wrap his brain around everything, and he couldn't speak until he forumlated his thoughts.

Padma began to get a bit figity, shifting her position several times and checking her watch more than once. "I've got to go," she said at last. "I'm meeting Parvati before lunch."

Still not hungry, Harry kissed her goodbye and avoided the Great Hall. He headed back towards the common room but found his feet taking him to Professor Snape's office. He knocked twice.

"Enter."

Harry pushed open the door. Snape was sitting at his desk, which was clear. He held his hands with fingers arched, elbows resting on the arms of his chair. He appeared deep in thought.

"Professor Snape? You said we would talk later. Well it's later. I have a few questions." A few? More like a plethora.

"No doubt. Perhaps you will allow me the liberty of anticipating some of them?"

Harry nodded. What else could he do?

"Yes, I bear the Dark Mark, burned in to my skin by the Dark Lord himself. Yes, I was once a Death Eater and served him willingly. But I came to regret the rash choice of impassioned youth. I grew disillusioned with his cause, his methods, and his tactics. I repented of my many sins and worked to atone for them by turning spy for those who opposed him."

"Spy!" Harry didn't know what he'd expected to hear, but that certainly wasn't it.

"Yes. I informed on his plans, and I was able to prevent some deaths, some destruction. It was not enough, nor will it ever be enough. But I did what I could, and with his return I will be continuing in such capacity."

Snape's voice was flat. He might as well have been reading the roll before class. His eyes, though, were haunted. What dark things he was reliving, Harry couldn't guess at. It was almost like how Sirius sometimes got when he thought about Azkaban.

"Is that where you went last night?"

"He had summoned us all back, as you know. I could not answer at once because one cannot Apparate on the grounds of Hogwarts. I immediately informed the Headmaster, and we quickly decided that your disappearance and my summoning were not unrelated. It was his wish that I answer the summons and attempt to infiltrate the ranks again."

"You must have succeeded. You're still alive."

"I was, and now my presumed closeness to the Headmaster puts me in very favourable position. I have the Dark Lord's ear."

"What, in a box?"

Snape frowned. "Levity is inappropriate, Mister Potter. I suppose that having been so flippant to the Dark Lord himself, I have little chance of convincing you to still your tongue."

"Sorry, sir. I can't help it."

"The Dark Lord cannot be allowed to achieve his goals. He seeks to install himself as Minister, but it would only be a title. He wants nothing less than absolute authority and obedience. He will use anyone and anything in order to be victorious. He will destroy those who oppose him, who stand up for freedom."

Though he could understand such a motive for joining the cause, Harry didn't look at it quite like that. He knew Voldemort had tried to take over the world, but no high-minded ideal could inspire him to fight with the fervor he felt when he thought about his mum and dad. Harry wanted revenge against the wizard who had murdered them, and he'd scorch the earth to get it. Now he finally understood why his fellow Slytherins got so riled up when they talked about blood feuds. Such a horrific wrong had been done to him that destroying Voldemort was the only possible response.

"Then Merlin keep you safe, Professor."

Snape's eyes flashed dangerously. "You must tell _no one_ of this, Mister Potter. My continued survival depends on it. I have told you the truth because you have an uncanny habit of being at the centre of every disaster that takes place at this school. I am certain that the war will affect us here. This is going to get very ugly before it's all over. Make no mistake, friends will cross wands with friends. Make sure you watch your back. More than one Slytherin will be tempted by the Dark Lord. I have a responsibility as Head of Slytherin House to keep as many as possible from falling. I will talk to many people many different ways. You must not let on that you know any differently when you see me playing various roles. I must have your word on this."

Harry gulped. Snape's vision of the future was bleak and frightening. Would his prophecy come true? Would Harry end up on opposite sides of one of his friends? He grimaced. More than one? How many would fall in his quest for vengeance?

"I'll keep your secret, sir."

"Good."

There was silence.

"Was there anything else, sir? Because I really should start packing."

"Dismissed, Mister Potter."

Harry headed for the common room and began laying out cards in a round of Exploding Solitaire. He'd just moved a king down to an empty space when the wall slid open to admit Laine and Ginny. Good, a friendly audience.

"Ladies, could I have a moment?"

"Sure, Harry," Laine said, sitting down next to him at the table. Ginny took a seat opposite of him.

"What do you think of this morning's headline?" he asked, getting right to the point.

Laine blinked several times in astonishment. "What am I supposed to think about it? It's awful news, isn't it? I've got a cousin in the Aurors, and I don't know if he was on duty last night. I sent an owl to Daddy, but I haven't heard back yet."

"I'm sorry, Laine."

"I'm not really close with Alfred, but he tells exciting stories at family gatherings."

"Ginny?"

Ginny bit her lip. "Honestly, I'm scared to death. My parents survived the last war. My uncles fought and died in it. Dark times, my dad says. You couldn't trust anybody because you didn't know if they were under the Imperius Curse. Spies were everywhere. The world nearly fell apart."

"And then Harry happened," Laine added.

"Then my mother happened," he corrected. "It was my mother's sacrifice that protected me, nothing special about me. It's old magic."

Laine wiped at her eye. "That's beautiful. Oh, Harry."

"It's our duty to remember the Dark times, my dad says, because unless we do, we won't recognize them when they come again."

"That's very wise, Ginny," Harry said. Sirius had said much the same thing. "I think we can all agree that they're back."

"Certainly."

"I'm going to fight him. I'm going to stop him. And I'll need help."

Laine looked nervous. Ginny looked determined. "Absolutely," she said firmly. "You can count on me."

"I knew I could. Laine?"

"Of course, Harry. I'm just surprised is all. Why me?"

"Because you're my friend, and I don't want to have to fight you. Everyone I get on my side is someone I don't have to hurt."

"Just let me know what I can do."

"I will."

Millie, Jenna, and Pansy entered at that point and joined them.

Pansy spoke first. "They look like you told them."

"I did."

"Good. Laine, we have much to discuss. Our work begins now, even over the summer."

The girls headed off to the dormitory.

Draco was the next to arrive, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. "I rounded these two up. Want to get it over with?"

"Sounds good."

Tim entered, and he glared belligerently at Harry and Draco when they both looked up at him.

"What?"

"Draco, why don't you guys wait for me in the dorm. Tim, can I have a moment?"

Seemingly puzzled by Draco's sudden departure, Tim sat down at the table.

"What's going on?"

"He's back," Harry said simply.

"I read about it."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And your father is a Death Eater, Tim!" Harry burst out. He had no patience for Tim's customary obstinant manner of replying to inquiries. "I know. I was there for Voldemort's little coming out party."

"Don't say that name. Did Malfoy's father pull you out of there?" Tim sneered. "It would explain why he suddenly showed up at the Third Task."

"And what if he did?" Harry demanded. "Your dad bowed down to him."

"Shut up, Potter."

"It's true, Tim. I know you hate it. I hate it too. I like your dad. He was nice to me. He's a genius with numbers. You've got to talk to him," Harry pleaded, switching his approach. "You've got to make him see reason. He doesn't have to serve Voldemort."

"Stop it!" Tim's voice was slightly shrill. He was a bit wild around the eyes.

Harry smirked, suddenly knowing how to break Tim down. "Stop what? Saying 'Voldemort'?"

"Gah!"

"Voldemort."

Tim twitched.

"Voldemort."

"Aah!"

"Voldemort."

"Enough!"

"I'm going to keep on saying it, Tim. I'll keep saying it until I turn blue in the face, until my tongue dries up and falls out, until you aren't afraid of it anymore."

"But I am afraid!" Tim cried. "He'll kill us all!"

At last, progress! "Not if we kill him first."

"You can't kill the Dark Lord!"

"We'll find a way. But I need your help to do it. Nobody else has your brains, Tim. You're too clever by far, but now I need that. Help me."

Tim was agonized, judging from his expression.

"Tim, if you side with Voldemort, sooner or later he's going to ask you to deliver me to him. Are you prepared to do that? I know we've been at odds this year, but is it really that bad? I still think of you as my friend, Tim, and I want to help you. Together we can help your dad."

"I don't want him to serve. He's too old to take even one Cruciatus if the Dark Lord gets in a foul mood."

"So you'll talk to him?"

"I'll do what I can."

"That's it?"

"That's the best I can do, Harry. I'm not going to turn on my old man. He's all I've got left. I'm all he's got left. We'll sink or swim together."

At least it was honest. Harry wondered how many would swear up and down that they'd never serve the Dark Lord, lying through their teeth. He'd considered every angle with Tim, but blunt pragmatism hadn't been on the list.

Tim stood up and headed for the dorm. He emerged a minute later with a scroll of parchment and headed out again, presumably to the Owlery.

Harry was on a roll. He might as well keep pushing his luck. At least he would have backup for this one. He headed for the dormitory.

"Hey, Harry. Draco said there was something going on?"

"Hi, Crabbe. Yeah, you could say that. The world's gone to pot, and we've all been caught with our trousers around our ankles."

"Colourful."

"You haven't heard anything yet." Harry was feeling feckless. "Do you have any idea who showed up to the Death Eater reunion last night? Your dads. What do you have to say about _that_?"

"Subtle, Harry," Draco commented.

"You've got to be direct with these two."

Both of "those two" looked uncomfortable. Crabbe shuffled his feet and looked at the rug. Goyle became very interested in the ceiling, because he wouldn't look down.

"You don't deny it?" Harry accused. "Fine. So you knew your dads were Death Eaters and never thought to mention it to me. That's just dandy. Give me one reason I shouldn't hex your heads up your arses!"

"It's not like that, Harry," Goyle protested. "Yeah, dad always talked about how the Dark Lord knew what needed doing, but I never knew he was part of the gang. He only told me a few months ago."

"A few _months_?" Harry asked, completely astounded.

"He took a few months to tell me," Goyle said defensively. "The Dark Mark came back during the summer. I didn't find out until Christmas. He sat me down and said he wanted me to know what the future held for our family. I tried to talk him out of it. I really tried. He's too afraid to even consider fighting."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was hoping I could bring him around. I didn't want to admit to you, Harry, what my dad was and wanted to be. What he wanted me to be. I would much rather have introduced him as an ally."

"I wanted to tell you, too, Harry. Me and Goyle, we spent a lot of time last summer trying to figure out what to do. We couldn't come up with anything, so we just kept on trying to talk sense in to our dads. It didn't work then, and it especially won't work when they've actually seen the Dark Lord again."

Despite himself, Harry felt his anger start to fade. He could understand pride. It was much better to introduce his godfather the Scion of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black than his godfather the crazy, escaped murderer.

"So what now?" Harry asked.

"Maybe you could talk to them, Harry," Draco suggested. "Make your case directly and put on a little show of power for them. Make them realize being on your side is better than being on his side."

"A show? Like what?"

"I'm thinking speaking in Parseltongue. That will definitely get their attention. The Dark Lord is also a Parselmouth, and if you can demonstrate that his talents are not unique, you can likely be more persuasive."

"Okay, where are you going to find a snake?" Harry had only ever spoken the snake language when he could see - or imagine he saw - a real snake.

"Find one yourself. Go out in to the woods and look around."

"Right, because there's lots of snakes in the Forbidden Forest."

"There's everything else."

"It's a good idea," Harry admitted. It wasn't quite as drastic as a visit from Eithne the Basilisk, but it was workable.

"Hear that, fat heads?" Draco said witheringly. "Despite your failure to disclose very important information to a friend and social better, Harry is going to try to save your dads lives. Now thank him and promise you'll fight against the Dark Lord."

"Thanks, Harry," Crabbe muttered.

"Yeah, thanks, Harry," Goyle said.

"Promise," Draco commanded.

"What, a blood oath?"

"Swear you'll help Harry in his fight."

"You're cracked, you are," Crabbe said.

"You're going to get on your bloody knees and swear loyalty to the Heir of Slytherin. If you don't, I'm going to scramble your brains with a Memory Charm, and all I know about them is the incantation."

"Don't you even _think_ about mucking with my brains!" Crabbe roared, making a big fist and threatening Draco with it. "I need all I've got! Go on, Malfoy, go for your wand. I _dare_ you to go for your wand."

Draco didn't look like he wanted to take him up on that dare. "It was a metaphor and nothing more."

"You want a loyalty oath, Harry?" Goyle said. "Really?"

"I can't trust your fathers," Harry said strongly. "I can't trust you either. We're headed home. How do I know he's not going to put you under the Imperius Curse as soon as you walk in the door? I don't want the first thing that happens on the train in the fall to be an assassination attempt."

"You _did_ do rather poorly at resisting Imperius," Draco observed helpfully.

"Well we can't help that."

"You sleep in the same bedroom I do," Harry pointed out. "I'm completely defenceless when I'm sleeping."

"You could protect your bed."

"You'd just burn it up and me in it."

"You _do_ know about casting proper protective enchantments, right?" Goyle asked.

"Look, that's hardly the point. Will you swear not to try to kill me or not?"

"Yes!" Goyle said with exasperation. "I swear I will not try to kill Harry Potter."

A burst of light exploded like a firework from the tip of wand.

"I swear I will not try to kill Harry Potter."

Crabbe's wand also acknowledged the truth of the statement.

"Now when can we get together to talk to them?" Draco speculated.

"Sirius will never let me go without him. We should set up the meeting by owl post later. I don't want to plan without talking to Sirius first."

"Fine. I hope you're up to this, Harry," Crabbe said. "The Dark Lord doesn't believe in mercy."

"Funny. I wasn't thinking about offering any to him either."

It had been a week since the night of the third task, and Harry was glad to be out of the spotlight. His win had been overshadowed by Voldemort's return, and the Ministry was using very strong language in daily press releases, urging the public to remain calm. It was naturally the only topic of discussion at Hogwarts.

In the Slytherin common room, conversation was very careful. Most of the upper year students discussed it in terms of politics. They weighed the resolve of the Ministry versus the Dark Lord's insidious tactics. No mention at all was made of the Death Eaters. Everything was about their leader.

Finally it was time for the Leaving feast. The food was delicious as always, but a definite miasma of fear hovered in the air. The next morning, their visitors would be going home, and Hogwarts would close for another summer. After a ride on the Hogwarts Express, they would be back to the real world again. It was a scary place for many, a theme Professor Dumbledore addressed in his farewell to the students.

When the last of the desserts had been devoured, the Headmaster got to his feet. Where there had always been a sense of eccentricity and whimsey about him, Dumbledore now looked poised and focused. His was not the energy of the old man his silvery hair and beard proclaimed him to be. He raised his arms for silence.

"As you are all aware, Lord Voldemort has returned to threaten our world once more. He has seduced the dementors to his cause. He has taken control of Azkaban prison and freed those of his followers imprisoned there fourteen years ago. He is fortifying the island, and the Ministry is hard at work developing a plan to retake it. We are at a state of open warfare once more.

"If we are to reclaim the peace we have known these past fourteen years, Lord Voldemort must be stopped. The Ministry will fight, but the Ministry is only as good as the people in it. They will have need of many hands in the coming struggle, and I advise those who wish to fight to apply to the Auror program. The requirements are strict, but the Ministry will be re-evaluating the criteria to be sure to not overlook raw talent.

"There are also many roles to be played behind the front lines. I expect many new job postings to be in the Daily Prophet. There is always a need for thinkers as well as doers. Everybody can have a part in what must be done to achieve our security as free witches and wizards.

"We can win only if we stand united by common bonds of friendship, such as we have forged here with our guests from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. To fight the coming darkness will require trust, loyalty, and love.

"Be vigilant over the holiday. Keep yourselves and your families safe. Good night."

Professor Snape accompanied the crowd of Slytherins as they made their way down to the common room. He spoke with Higgs and the other prefects, and the House was called to order that Snape might address them.

"It has been an exciting year. We made new friends - some of us very good friends," he added with a knowing tone in his voice. "We have been witness to some amazing feats of wizardry. One of our own became the youngest Triwizard winner in history. But there were more momentous events transpiring in the outside world.

"The Dark Lord who vanished fourteen years ago has returned. Next year, tempers will be hot, and to be a Slytherin will be to be suspect. We are all Death Eaters in the eyes of some. But Slytherin ambition can also lead many to a Ministry career. I urge you to recognize that the Dark Lord's designs for power threaten the ambitions of everyone. War is seldom a good way of achieving political objectives.

"The war will surely involve many of you if it lasts long enough. As always, my door is open to any who wish counsel. I will maintain confidence. No words spoken in private will be shared. Everyone needs someone to listen sometimes, and I am that someone. No problem is too big it cannot be shared, and talking can help order your thoughts.

"Stay safe this holiday. Do not be afraid to turn to each other if you should have need. Remember that your loyalty is first and foremost to the house."

Harry wondered if Professor Snape was playing a role even then. Some of the people in this room were related to Death Eaters. Was this urging for house unity directed towards that?

When Professor Snape left, Harry returned to the dormitory to pack the very last of his things. All he would need to leave out were his toothbrush, bathing kit, and a set of clothes.

They turned in early, and the next morning, Draco bid them all farewell. He was remaining at the castle with his mother and his brother, who had thus far stayed hidden in the staff wing.

After breakfast, the Durmstrang students boarded their ship and sailed away. The Beuuxbatons students piled in to their carriage like a clown car and soared off in to the sky. The Hogwarts students rode in the horseless carriages down to the village where they would catch the Hogwarts Express back to London.

Sirius was waiting for Harry at the platform. He was sitting on his motorbike, though the engine was not on. As Harry approached, a big grin broke on his face.

"Harry!"

"Sirius!"

They embraced, but not too long with the others watching. They clapped each other on the back in a manly fashion and stepped back. Harry turned to his friends.

"I guess this is where we say good-bye. Have a good train ride."

"Bloody unfair," Jenna said, poking Harry in the ribs. "You just know Weasley is going to come by to bother us, and _we'll_ have to deal with him."

"You helped me train for the third task. You can wipe the floor with Weasley."

"This is true."

Jenna hugged Harry, which irritated Blaise. A brief scowl flashed across her face, instantly replaced by a cheery smile.

"Bye, Harry. Have a good time."

"Bye, Blaise. Have a good holiday."

"You too."

Pansy hugged him briefly and kissed his cheek. "Be safe. I'll be in touch very soon."

"Thanks, Pansy. Good journey."

Millie, who had been quiet all morning, was clearly missing Viktor Krum, but she but on a brave face and clapped Harry on the shoulder with a blow that nearly sent him lurching in front of an arriving carriage.

Crabbe and Goyle both shook hands with Harry as they boarded the train. Tim nodded, not saying anything, but not looking like he wanted to pick a fight either.

"Ready?"

"Yes." Harry hopped on the back of the motorbike, and Sirius started the engine with a roar. They slowly wheeled down the lane.

The Hogwarts Express blew its whistle and began to chug-chug, slowly at first but gradually picking up steam. Harry leaned forward to yell in Sirius' ear. Sirius laughed and nodded. He gunned the motor and activated the Flying Charm. They followed the train from about a hundred feet up. It pulled away from the village, through the trees, and eventually headed towards a bridge over a river. Sirius put the motorbike in to a dive, and Harry let out a whoop as they circled round and around the train and the trestle in a corkscrew. Harry caught sight of gawping faces pressed to the windows and laughed even harder. They took off up in to the sky again. The wind was whipping at Harry's robes, the sun was shining, and he felt absolutely free.

Finé

**Author's Note**

Don't expect to see Year 5. Following completion of the canon, I went back and did a major overhaul of the series, published as the Post-Canon Revision. Year 5 will be set in that continuum. You will not be able to just pick up Y5 from the end of this story. Don't complain to me. Obnoxious PMs and reviews will be answered with lots of profanity if you're too stupid to read this note.


	26. Missing Scenes

**They Shook Hands : Year Four**

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic  
by Dethryl

**Chapter Delta - Missing Scenes from Year Four**

Sirius and Remus sat in the arsenal sitting glasses of firewhiskey. Harry had long since gone to bed, worn out from a hard day of cleaning the house with his friends.

"Some day, eh, Moony?"

"It certainly is that. We got a lot done."

"Lots to go."

"Be positive."

"I'm positive there's a lot to go."

"That's the spirit. I think with all these extra hands helping out, we'll be done in no time."

"It is terribly amusing to put pureblooded kids to work cleaning. I can't lie about it."

"They're good kids, Padfoot," Remus argued. "Obnoxious little bastards at times, but then so were the Gryffindors I taught, and so were we."

"They are good kids," Sirius admitted. "When they're not tormenting Muggleborns and hexing anyone who crosses their path, they're absolutely delightful. I honestly believe they bring their mothers flowers and whatnot."

"Now you're being disingenuous."

"Gesunteight. Not junior Death Eaters, which I would have expected, but they're not nice people."

"And I say again, Padfoot, were we so much different at that age? Do I need to remind you what you tried to have Severus do to himself?"

"Yes, I'd love to hear the story again."

Remus chuckled. "Oh, knock it off. It's the way of children to be ignorant and stupid. Only life and experience can make them grow up. These children have been involved in some pretty heady affairs in their short lives. They're almost tolerable now."

"I suppose I can understand that. I just worry about how much they influence Harry."

"Because of how he grew up, he has very solid reasons to hate Muggles. The purebloods have fed in to that. It will be extremely difficult to change his mind on that issue. He's going to need years of therapy when this is all over and done with. But he's latched on to Lily being Muggle-born and done something very interesting with it. Harry holds no prejudice about purity of magical blood, only about its presence."

"And this is what? Progress?"

"I would say so."

Lucius Malfoy's arm was burning. Toxic magic seared his skin. He came awake with a scream that split the night. He howled, clutching at his left forearm and holding it close to his stomach.

The pain! The mind-bending pain! An infinite number of white-hot needles were jabbed in to every nerve ending. But where injury was a flash of pain that receded, this agony did not relent.

The last time he had felt it had been in the presence of his old master.

The dark times! The days he'd left behind without regret all came back to him. When his Death Eaters failed, the Dark Lord was free with his curses. It was impossible to leave once summoned unless one were dismissed and given permission to go. Lucius had been on the receiving end of the Dark Lord's wrath more than once, and each time he had sworn not to scream only to break his vow eventually.

"Lucius!" Narcissa, his perfect wife was instantly by his side. "Look at me!"

Her voice registered on the very edge of his consciousness. Fighting to focus his eyes against the pain that gnawed on his sanity, he looked at her.

"Lucius, stay with me. Be strong, my love. Be strong."

Her love struck him with the force of a blow. Her eyes captured his, and he was sinking in to their beautiful blue depths. His mind reeled from the emotion, and the pain diminished slightly.

His trembling and shaking continued, but she held him. She whispered soothing words to him and rocked him back and forth. Her comfort eventually calmed him, and he fell in to an exhausted sleep.

When he had recovered from the agony of the Dark Mark reigniting on his skin, Severus Snape headed to the Headmaster's office. He had a house in the country, but what was the point of going there? Without the moronic students who regularly prevented the fine art of potion-making from taking place, the dungeons were emminently suitable. His laboratory was already set up here at school.

"Infiltrate!"

The door opened. Snape stepped inside.

"You do have the most odd invitations, Albus."

"I've said 'Come in' and 'Enter' so many times that I've grown quite bored with them, Severus. A thesauraus is a wonderful tool."

"So it is."

"What brings you here at this time of night?"

An odd question, considering that Dumbledore seemed quite awake.

"The Dark Mark has returned. I am only now suitably recovered from the pain to come and report."

"What?" Dumbledore was aghast. "How?"

"I know not. But see for yourself." Snape pulled back his sleeve.

"This is most serious."

"He's done something. I don't know what, but something has changed."

"Do you think there's anything that can be done?"

"Until he chooses to summon me, I can learn nothing."

"And that should be only a matter of time. Things look to come to a head this year. We must be ready. I should like to consult with Alastor on the matter."

"Mad-Eye? So he's accepted the job, has he?" Snape tried not to be bitter about that. He was continually passed over for the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor.

"He has."

"Very well."

Dumbledore placed a firecall to the residence of Alastor Moody, newly retired Auror. He had accepted a teaching post, so his retirement was obviously not going to be quiet.

Floo was a very convenient means of communicating, but it did mean that anyone in the room could hear both ends of the conversation.

"Alastor?"

Dumbledore pulled his head back sharply as what sounded like a Blistering Hex crashed in to the fireplace.

"Alastor, it's Dumbledore!"

"Dumbledore? Warn me before you just pop out of nowhere like that!"

"My sincerest apologies, Alastor. Do you have a few moments to talk?"

Dumbledore laid out what little they knew.

"The biggest question I have is whether or not you intend to tell Harry," Snape said.

"Why does he need to know?" Dumbledore asked. "What good can it do?"

"He can prepare himself. Why should we not give him the chance to comprehend the enormity of the threat he faces?"

"We don't know for certain if there is a threat," Dumbledore said.

"Albus, the Dark Mark is irrefutable proof," Moody declared. "Potter can't be vigilant if he doesn't know about what's out there."

"He knows Voldemort is out there," Dumbledore argued. "They've clashed on several occasions."

"This is true," Snape admitted. "But this is specific, not general. I will tell him.

"No, Severus, I feel it best if we do not enlighten Harry as to this development. We don't really know anything, and we can tell him if something happens."

"That might not be in enough time. The Dark Lord strikes without warning."

"Severus, please do as I ask."

"No. Harry is one of mine, and I will not see harm come to him. Knowledge is power, Albus, as you well know."

"Snape has the right of it, Albus. The more he knows, the safer he is."

"The more he knows, the more of his childhood I take from him," Dumbledore said with a great sigh. "I want to spare him the loss of innocence. No, he must not be told."

"I will tell him anyway. It is my right as his Head of House."

"I am the Headmaster, Severus."

"Perhaps a compromise?" Moody suggested. "Potter lives with Black, right? Why don't we inform him. He's Potter's legal guardian after all."

"That would be a collosal mistake, Alastor," Snape said coolly. "The first thing Black will do is tell Potter."

"Can he be made to see reason?"

"You obviously don't know him very well. Black is a loose cannon. He is reckless, dangerous, prone to profound acts of stupidity, and firmly convinced that he knows everything there is to know. He should not rely upon his discretion."

"That will do, Severus. No, Sirius should not be told either. We might as well tell Harry directly."

"As you say, Albus."

Note: Rough draft written by Elle, edited by Dethryl

"Hey, Jamie? Do you have your old potions notes?" Blaise asked, poking her blonde head into her sister's sunny pink room. "I figured I might as well start on next year's work."

Jamie had been trying to practice her flute, trying to keep her mind off her problems, but was having little success. She turned to her sister and smiled sadly.

"Not much else to do, is there?" she asked, gesturing for Blaise to come in and sit with her. "I'm sorry."

"No, I like it. We get to spend time together," Blaise lied valiantly, biting back the look of pain. Jamie had seen the same distraught look every morning when she looked into a mirror and realized she and her sister were _persona non grata_ in the social world. "Usually, we're too busy to even see each other."

It was true. Had life been proper, Jamie would have been queen of her year's social set. She would have passed the summer shopping with Bridget, going riding with the girls, and sitting in Malfoy Manor with Elan. Her clothing would have been copied, her jokes repeated, and her likes and dislikes noted. Blaise would be with her little friends, serving a similar role. They would be where they should be.

"You're being too kind. This is all my fault. Even Mum and Dad are suffering because of me," she whispered helplessly, running her fingers through her hair nervously. Mum had been snubbed in public, and Dad was barely holding onto his contacts at work. While they wouldn't be losing their home, it was a definite blow to their family. Jamie tried not to worry, but she couldn't help it. She could take suffering on her own, but bringing her family in to this was just plain crossing the line.

Elan had been none too pleased with her complaining about him and had decided to make an example of her. As a Malfoy, he could do what he pleased and everyone would follow his lead. A few words from him, and suddenly everyone was too busy to notice anyone from her family. There were no teas in the garden, no wild parties to hide from her parents; she was boring and unwanted.

She could even pinpoint the fall from grace. In the beginning of the summer, Jamie had seen her once best friend Maddy Fitzjean buying new dress robes. Maddy had blushingly claimed it was for a cousin's wedding, even though everyone with a lick of sense knew it was the Beltane party at the Malfoy country home. For the first time in years, Jamie had not received an invitation. Since that day, she had been aware of the cooling of relations with everyone she thought had been her friend. Appointments were cancelled, parties went uninvited, and no one had owled her all summer.

"It's no one's fault," Blaise said, trying to be cheery. It was a complete lie. The Zabini family was completely ostracized by polite wizarding society, and she knew who to blame for her family's suffering.

"Potter still ignoring you? He's a damned fool, you know," Jamie said tenderly. Blaise was sharing her exile. That was probably Elan's fault as well. He was much admired by Potter, and a few suggestive words would have been all that were needed.

"Everyone is. No invitations for parties or even casual gatherings. No one wants to see me. I don't exist," Blaise whispered, completely breaking down in tears as she buried her face in Jamie's shoulder. "All because I love a boy who doesn't love me back. They hate me."

"No, Blaise, they hate _me_, and they're just using you to hurt me," Jamie explained, knowing it made things sound so much worse. She knew that none of them would cross Elan, he had everyone in their circle on his side in some way, either by friendship or family. "That blasted Malfoy, he thinks he owns everything. He and that damned Weasley pet he keeps, they turned everyone against me. My own friends. I trusted them."

Blaise continued crying, and Jamie stroked her hair. She didn't know how she had fallen so low, to be the social outcast. She had thought she had friends as well. Now, she didn't know what to do.

"I don't understand! Breaking up with Malfoy, and he decides to destroy our family? Does he do this to all girls he dates?" she sobbed.

"Lynn and Maddy and Sam and Bridget are just too afraid to do anything, because of him and his little pet. It was Weasley who wanted me thrown out of the group, you know. He was jealous of me and Elan. And Elan just loved it; he loved the attention. And stupid Bridget, she didn't even warn me. She was always after my place, but she was as flat as a piece of bread and into her books. Now because she finally has a figure, she thinks she can ignore me? I remember helping her stuff her shirt so she didn't look like a boy. And now she's Miss Wizard's Choice?" she spat. "I bet she was using potions to finally get herself to look normal. St. Mungo's records should be checked."

"Elan did it because he thinks Bridget is prettier?"

Jamie stiffened. "Elan did this to me because he wanted to have the whole group to himself. He wanted everyone following him, and I was too much of a threat. He thinks he can find someone who will just jump at his command," she snapped angrily to no one in particular.

Blaise just sobbed harder. "Men are pigs," she sniffled, finally making some sense. "We should just hex them."

"Yes we should, little sister. I just saw Lynn slumming with that abominable Weasley. He has to work for a living. I should be pitying Elan for even letting him into the social set. They just lowered standards, and when I protested, they threw me out. And Maddy's dating the son of a Death Eater, so she's no real prize. And Sam's just a pathetic weakling. If it wasn't for Elan, he'd have been stuffed into small, cramped spaces by older students. I'm better off without them."

Blaise hugged her tight. "You are better than them," she agreed sweetly. She always knew the right thing to say. "Let's go shopping, we'll find some nice jumpers for the new season. By then, things will have gotten better."

Jamie wished she could tell her sister the truth. Things would never get better till someone took Elan down a peg.

As Harry spoke the language of snakes, Jenna felt a shiver run down her spine. Parseltongue, the gift possessed by Salazar Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four. No other wizard in British history (or greater Europe, for that matter) could speak it except his line. This was all the proof she had required before acknowledging Harry as the Heir of Slytherin.

And now she watched as the pipe leading down beneath the school was exposed. The Chamber of Secrets, Hogwarts' oldest legend. Only the Heir of Slytherin could open the Chamber, so the tale went. Harry had opened it once before, and now it was opened again.

Harry cast the Featherfall Charm on her, and she felt a tingling behind her ears. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. He was so very cute when he was trying to be solemn and serious. She chose not to disrupt his little moment with a sarcastic comment.

The journey down to pipe was rather boring. It was all very clean ceramic. She touched it with one hand, tracing her fingers on the ancient plumbing.

At the bottom, she landed gently on her feet and stepped out of the mouth of the pipe in to a stone cavern. They were miles beneath the castle, surely. Globes of flame lit the way forward.

Jenna gasped along with the others when they glimpsed the giant skin. Harry had faced down this beast as a second year with only his gift of serpent speech as a weapon? She shuddered to think of how easily they might have lost him.

The great ornate door required another word, and it swung open on silent hinges. She stepped inside the Chamber, not knowing what to expect next. It was a very long room, lined with towering stone pillars that were entwined with more carved serpents. At the far end of the hall, a statue as high as the Chamber itself loomed into view. The giant face above was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard's sweeping stone robes, where two enormous grey feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor. Filtered light lit a circle on the stone floor at the statue's feet.

Jenna felt her knees trembling. Who was she to be standing here amidst history? Her bloodline was not particularly distinguished. Her mother had remarried after the war. Her father was new money, having helped develop several new innovations to broom safety charms. She wasn't worthy to be here.

Harry called them all back to their purpose. He needed their help to train for the First Task. Dragons. What insanity.

Charlie Weasley watched Harry Potter flying circles around the Chinese Fireball and felt the stirrings of envy in his gut. Strange. He hadn't envied anyone anything in years. Well, maybe his dad and mum for the phenomenal love they shared. You had to be in love to raise seven kids together. Charlie wanted that for himself some day.

"Some fancy flying, eh Ron?"

His younger brother, watching the First Task from the sidelines instead of in the stands with his fellow Gryffindors, snorted rudely. "Potter's not bad," he grunted, and even that admission appeared to pain him. "You're better."

"Naturally."

Ron watched Potter for a silent moment or two, his emotions plain on his face, for he had never learned to hide them. "I hate him. He's a smug, smarmy, slimy, slippery, evil Slytherin. He struts around the school like he owns the place. Just once I'd love to see him put in his place."

The wild look in Ron's eyes suddenly set Charlie on edge. That was the look of a madman. "Ron?"

"Charlie, you're my favourite brother. You know that, right?"

Oh no, he was using the "favourite brother" introduction.

"I've always wanted to be like you. I've always wanted to be great at Quidditch like you. I want to fly high and win glory for Gryffindor. But there's no way I'll ever be able to do it. I can't afford a good broom, and I don't have anyone to teach me."

"What are you saying, Ron?" Charlie knew, but he wanted to hear it from Ron's own mouth.

"Will you teach me how to be a Seeker? You were the best, everyone says so. If you teach me everything you know, I'll be sure to make the team next year. We've got lots of time to train."

"Sure, Ron. This summer, you come to Romania. I'll have lots of time apart from work. Maybe I'll even get you a job as an assistant stall sweeper. Could you work around these big lizards? Pay's pretty good."

"They're not so bad," Ron said bravely.

"It would go a long way towards paying for a new broom," Charlie advised him. "If you put in the effort, Mum and Dad might be able to come up with something to help you out."

"Mum and Dad can't, and you know it. Ever since Dad got demoted and had to pick up his night job, things are really tight. She bought me dress robes, right? But they're from ages ago and might as well be a dress. I love 'em, but we're poor. I couldn't fly well, knowing that it meant the family was going without something."

Charlie was as impressed as he'd ever been with his youngest brother. His words reflected a remarkably mature attitude about money. Things hadn't been so bad when Charlie had been younger. Everything had cost less, and there weren't so many mouths to feed.

Charlie's first broom had been second-hand, yes, but also top of the line acquired for a song by Dad through a friend at the Ministry. Then he'd gone out in to the world to make his own way, and it was finally starting to pay off. He had a tidy flat, which he shared with one mate. He'd managed to put away a handful of Galleons each month while still sending money back to England.

"Not to worry, Ron," he said warmly. "_I'll_ make up the difference. How about that?"

"So we're agreed then," Ron said. "By the time we get back to the common room tonight, we'll both have dates."

"Right," Neville said.

Ron wished he felt nearly so confident as he pretended to be. The thought of asking another girl to the Yule Ball made his stomach twist up in knots. He'd asked Parvati Patil three times and been turned down. Well, he was supposed to be a Gryffindor, right? He'd find his courage somewhere - he hoped.

Either Merlin or Godric Gryffindor himself was with him, for as Ron left lunch and headed to Transfiguration, Chrissy Golding emerged from a secret passage - and she was alone!

"Hey, Chrissy," he said casually, before his nerves could stop him. Fred had just gone and _done_ it. Ron needed to do the same.

"Hi, Ron."

Wow, she was really pretty when she smiled. It rearranged her entire face.

Ron was speechless for a few moments. He tried to smile back, but it probably didn't come off all that well.

"Are you going with anyone to the Yule Ball?" he asked brilliantly.

"No, not yet."

"Me either. I was thinking-"

"Always a dangerous proposition."

"Yup. Would you like to go with me?"

"Sure. We've all got to go with someone, right? I don't fancy anyone, but it should be a lot of fun."

"Great. Fantastic."

They grinned rather foolishly at each other.

Chrissy brought them back from the clouds. "We should get to Transfiguration."

"Yeah. Wanna sit together?"

"All right, then."

Note: Rough draft written by Elle, edited by Dethryl

Michelle returned from the ball, still feeling like Cinderella. She couldn't believe she had been the date of the Boy Who Lived! She had raised her social standing for years. She had even gotten him to kiss her! Even if he wasn't interested in her now, things could change. The seed had been planted.

As she left the common room, Michelle couldn't wait to tell her friends what had happened. She was the luckiest girl in the third year, and everyone knew it. The other girls would be so jealous. Dancing with a star like Potter had been a dream come true. She sashayed lightly down the hall to her dorm, still remembering the feel of Potter's arms around her. She didn't even bother to be quiet. She knew everyone would be waiting to hear from her.

In the third year girls dorm, Ginny was being unbuttoned by Sarrah, as they all giggled together. Their smiles faded as she sat down.

"So, the little strumpet returns?" Laine said acidly.

Oh heck.

"Come off it," she said softly, her good mood fading away, but it was too late. Michelle knew Laine was in love with Harry, and her blazing eyes could have reduced Michelle to cinders on the spot.

She looked around at the others, but the venom in Shawna and Sarrah's eyes told her that Laine's feeling had spread.

"Are you just stupid?" Shawna hissed. "Do you really believe we'd be nice to someone who betrayed their own friend? You knew Laine liked Harry and you still went after him. Loyalty isn't only for Hufflepuffs."

"So eager to go off to Harry, you practically threw yourself at him," Sarrah said disapprovingly.

"You're a horrible bint," Shawna hissed angrily, turning her back to her. "You should be ashamed to call yourself a Slytherin."

"You aren't our friend," Sarah continued, folding her arms. "You're just a floozy tart, and no one wants to know you anymore. I hope you enjoyed tonight, because it is going to cost you."

Michelle looked around. Ginny was staring off into the corner, too cowed to say anything against the people who had taken her in.

"I'm sorry, I'll never do it again," she pleaded, realizing now that Laine's quiet on the matter had been the final warning. "Please, forgive my stupidity, it was just a little fun, nothing more."

Ginny suddenly looked up. "All right, I think I could use some help undoing my hair pins, Laine. Could you give me a hand?" she asked, clearly trying to smooth things.

Laine's glare moved to Ginny. "I think you'll be all right," she said softly, before returning her glare to Michelle. "It wasn't very funny to me."

"It was just a favor, I figure-" Michelle began, before seeing a flash of purple hex.

"_Vieo_," Laine hissed, as a sharp pain filled Michelle's mouth. A stitching charm; her mother had used it a hundred times. She tried to speak, to protest, but her lips wouldn't part. Only sounds emerged, her whimpers through the pain.

Laine knelt down at Michelle's side. "I would advise you to keep silent about that," she hissed. "Now, you're really going to get it."

Ginny's voice floated through the air. "What is she talking about?" Michelle realized through her tears what she had done wrong, but it was too late to correct it.

"It's nothing," Shawna said. "Some people just don't know their place."

"Exactly. Since you seem to be too stupid to hear warnings, let me put it to you plainly. You're a ghost now. No one can speak to you. No one can be friends with you. Until you learn your lesson, you're officially _vitandus_," Laine said softly. "That's the last you are going to hear from anyone of us for a while."

Michelle got to her feet and ran outside, hoping to get a prefect to help her with her mouth. Even through the stitches, she could still sob.

Ron was furious at another victory for Potter. And it didn't help that one of the judges was his own traitorous brother who was walking over to him in his fancy robes, all powerful and acting as if he was anything but a swot who had sold his own family for a position.

"Would you like to have some tea with me?" Percy asked, jogging over to him. "I've spoken to Dumbledore and he said I could take you to Hogsmeade so we could talk. My treat," he explained, sounding nervous.

"Not sure I want to say anything to you," Ron said, wondering if he was fast enough to hex his older brother. "You've made Mum cry. Youngest ever Department Head who doesn't invite his own family to the celebration party. Not sure why you want to be seen with me."

"I know," Percy said, looking miserable over that. "I didn't even know about the party. Elan planned it for me. I was told it was an office meeting on cauldron bottoms," he tried to explain. "Please, just listen to me."

"Try explaining it to Mum and Dad. They were crushed. You know, they're dumb enough to still care about you. Mum keeps setting a place for you at the table and then crying when she has to remove it because you're too busy trying to make yourself important to be part of the family," Ron sneered, enjoying watching his powerful older brother's face. He had been furious at him ever since Percy had taken Ginny to the Quidditch World Cup and left him behind.

Percy paled but stood his ground. "I didn't come to you to fight. I just want to talk. I'm still your brother, and I want to try and have a civil conversation with you."

Ron was having none of it. "You know, I'd believe you if you weren't such a suck up for power. I get you voting for the Hogwarts Champion, but do you really have to vote for Potter all the time? Full marks? Twice?" he demanded. It was something that drove him crazy; his own brother had the power to make Potter suffer and didn't!

Percy glared at him. "Are you accusing me of cheating?" he demanded, looking like he was about to start hexing.

Ron rolled his eyes. "You cheat? You don't have the Knuts to cheat. If you were a halfway decent brother, you would have sneaked me into the Tournament. But no, you just seem to be Potter's biggest fan. Couldn't you be as critical of him as you are to your own family?"

Percy adjusted his glasses. "Potter has managed to do well in the tournament, as Mister Bagman and Professor Dumbledore have always noted, Ronald. I see no reason to punish an excellent performance. And the thought of you suggesting I enter your name fraudulently, well, you should be glad I don't speak to Mum and tell her about this wild idea. She'd set you straight," he said pompously.

Ron's eyes widened on that train of thought. He hadn't thought about what his mother would do to him for risking his life like that. "Well, you'd actually have to talk to Mum to tell on me," he managed to say, knowing it was a low blow. "Are you planning to do that? Or do you just plan to keep kissing up to Potter and giving him a free ride?"

"I tried, Ron. Merlin knows, I've tried. You know where I am if you wish to find me," Percy said, trying to avoid looking stung. "And you might want to remember he saved Ginny's life. You owe Potter that!"

Ron glared at him and knew the perfect insult. "It should have been you who did it. Your own sister was nearly killed, and you, a prefect, did nothing for her," he said, knowing that would be something Percy would never recover from. "You abandoned her to die."

Percy smiled thinly, a rather terrifying smile that reminded Ron of the twins at their worst, and had his wand out before Ron could even blink. At that moment, Ron keenly was aware that his elder brother was a very talented wizard who had scored highest in his year in all of his classes, gotten twelve O.W.L.s in his fifth year, had been selected Head Boy, and had gotten a dozen N.E.W.T.s to polish it all off.

"You shouldn't talk about what you don't know. You really don't know me at all," he said softly, turning on his heel and walking away. "What a pity."

He hadn't even tried to hex him, even though he could have. It was - actually a nice gesture.

Ron watched his brother take a step away and decided, against his better judgement to be slightly nicer. "I don't know you at all, but take care of yourself," he found himself saying. "Don't work yourself to death."

Percy turned his head. "You too," he said cautiously. "If you want to still have tea, my offer stands."

"I'm busy. I have to practice drills. Charlie's teaching me to be a Seeker," Ron confided, still feeling weird. He didn't want to spend more time with him that he had to.

"Good to hear. But try and concentrate on your studies too," Percy said lightly. "See you at the next task."

Voldemort took his first step on to solid land and ended the spell that had let him cross the choppy waters of the ocean. He inhaled deeply, pleased that he was not even slightly tired after such a strenuous task.

He studied the bleak, grey fortress. It was imposing, even to one who had seen as much as he had. It had once been built to keep people out. Now it was used to keep people in. He smiled. Soon it would return to its original purpose.

He raised his wand to his throat. "_Sonorus!_

"Aurors of Azkaban! I am Voldemort, Darkest of Dark Lords! Unless you wish to die this day, throw down your wands and surrender yourselves to me! Resistance will be met with oblivion! Those who fight me will be destroyed!"

There was a pause, during which they would assuredly be trying to call for help. Let them come when they were unprepared for him. It would be a delightful slaughter.

"Whomever you are, this prison is answerable only to the Ministry of Magic. We do not recognize your authority. Now go away before you join the residents here."

Voldemort smiled. "But there those who _do_ recognize me. Dementors! Your master has come at last! Rise up! Slay the guards! Open the gates for me!"

Within moments, terrified shrieks could be heard, carried on the gusting wind. The guards, who had to live with the Dementors and their happiness-destroying presence, surely had wondered at one point or another how awful it must feel to receive the Dementor's Kiss. Now they knew just how awful it was.

When the screams had stopped, he began the journey to the gates. Azkaban belonged to him now.


End file.
